y"l" 

OA 


GAim 


••."•'  •  e 


MELONEY 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 


OF  CALIF.  LIBRARY,  LOS  ANGELES 


THE  GIRL  OF 
THE  GOLDEN  GATE 


BY 
WILLIAM    BROWN    MELONEY 


NEW     YORK 

GROSSET    &    DUNLAP 

PUBLISHERS 


CorVRlUHT,    1913,  BT 

WILLIAM  BROWN  MBLONEY 

COPYRIGHT,  1913,  BT 
£1  WARU    J.  CLODS 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 


2131235 


THE  GIRL  OF  THE  GOLDEN 
GATE 

CHAPTER  I 

THE  general  steamship  agency  on  The 
Bund  was  a  hive  of  bustling  travelers, 
their  faces  alight  with  the  eagerness  with 
which  they  desired  to  be  gone  their  many  ways 
up  and  down  the  world.  A  stranger  might  have 
imagined  that  most  of  Yokohama's  European 
or  "  white  "  population  had  been  possessed  of  a 
sudden  desire  to  flee  beyond  the  seas. 

It  was  a  scene  common  enough,  however,  for 
that  season  in  the  gateways  of  the  Far  East. 
Spring,  with  its  heart  call  to  distant  homelands, 
had  come  again  to  break  the  spell  of  the  Orient 
for  many  and  to  stir  an  unutterable  longing  in 
the  breasts  of  others — the  men  and  women  who 
dream  always  of  the  day  they  will  <rgo  back," 
but  who  never  do. 

The  crowd  was  a  conglomerate,  as  crowds  go, 
and  not  lacking  in  picturesque  touches — here 
where  a  Chinese  of  mandarin  rank  went  with  a 
silky  retinue;  there  where  a  pair  of  turbaned 

1 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

Sikhs  stood  near  two  begoggled  Korean  priests, 
muttering  in  gutturals  over  their  tickets  for  the 
South.  The  placidity  and  impenetrable  calm  of 
these  few  Oriental  faces  served  but  to  accentu- 
ate the  mobile  expressiveness  of  the  dominant 
Caucasian  countenance. 

Still  there  was  one  white  man  whose  features 
betrayed  no  expression  of  interest  in  the  scene. 
He  stood  head  and  shoulders  over  those  around 
him  in  a  line  of  applicants  at  a  booking  desk  to- 
ward the  rear.  There  was  an  air  of  detachment 
about  him.  Apparently  he  was  untouched  of  the 
spirit  of  mystic  restlessness  and  excitement 
which  pervaded  the  place — that  resistless,  un- 
deniable spirit  which  takes  hold  of  even  the  most 
unimaginative  and  lackadaisical  in  railway 
depots  or  wherever  else  men  in  numbers  set  out 
upon  journeys.  There  was  no  gleam  of  the 
homeward-bounder  in  his  eye — that  gleam  which 
is  more  like  the  light  of  love  than  anything  else ; 
there  was  no  expectancy;  no  sign  of  eagerness. 

At  a  first  glance  this  man's  face  seemed  no 
more  than  a  mask.  At  a  second  one  realized 
that  the  features  were  those  of  one  who  must 
have  won  unto  the  priceless  possession  of  self- 
control.  The  nose  was  large  and  yet  as  sensi- 
tively formed  as  the  freshly  shaven  lips  and 
chin.  The  ears  were  perfectly  lobed — the  ears 
2 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

of  a  thoroughbred.  The  jaw  was  that  of  the 
natural  fighter,  not  heavy  and  jowly,  but  cut 
in  a  sharp,  straight  line  from  the  hinge  to  the 
point.  Tiny  wrinkles  in  the  outer  corners  of 
the  eyelids,  which  come  from  facing  long  dis- 
tances on  sea  or  land,  kept  forming  and  reform- 
ing as  his  gray  eyes  wandered  idly  over  the 
heads  of  the  crowd.  It  is  thus  that  the  tribes  of 
the  earth's  big  spaces  are  marked. 

Several  times  he  pushed  his  small  gray  felt 
hat  back  from  his  brow  and  then  as  absently 
pulled  it  down  again.  When  he  did  this  one  saw 
the  seam  of  a  jagged  scar,  still  pink  from  recent 
healing,  which  traversed  the  left  temple  and 
disappeared  in  the  dark-brown  hair  over  the 
ear.  Although  the  forelock  and  the  temples 
were  quite  gray,  he  was  not  more  than  thirty- 
five  years  old. 

His  blue  serge  suit  fitted  well  and  the  trim- 
ness  of  his  setting-up — his  whole  bearing,  in 
fact — spoke  of  one  of  military  training.  Per- 
haps it  was  this  suggestion  of  the  soldier  that 
made  the  Sikhs  turn  and  look  back  at  him  as 
they  passed  out  on  The  Bund.  Yet  it  was  not 
as  a  soldier  that  the  port  of  Yokohama  knew 
him,  but  by  the  name  of  Whitridge  and  as  the 
captain  of  the  sorriest-looking  piece  of  sea  grist 
that  had  ever  made  Tokyo  Bay.  A  brute  of 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

a  Chinese  tramp  she  was,  and  men  who  knew 
deep  waters  were  still  marveling  how  he  had 
brought  her  through  the  vitals  of  a  typhoon— 
the  worst  in  their  memory — which  had  swept 
the  coast  in  a  fury  of  destruction. 

Chinese  tramps  and  those  who  go  in  them  are 
of  little  moment,  but  on  the  morning  two  months 
before  that  the  port  had  awakened  to  find  in  its 
fairway  a  salt-crusted  thing  called  the  Kau 
Lung,  minus  funnels  and  masts  and  suggesting 
only  vaguely  a  steamship,  it  knew  that  it  looked 
on  one  of  the  deep's  wonders.  The  sea  must 
have  swallowed  her  and  spat  her  up  again,  and 
those  who  said  this  had  in  mind  that  tramps 
which  fly  the  dragon  cloth  are  the  unsweetest 
things  upon  big  waters. 

Yet  not  only  through  stress  of  storm  had  he 
weathered  her,  but  through  a  mutiny  whose 
blood  rusted  her  decks.  Without  mates  and 
alone  save  for  a  big  Cantonese  serang  he  had 
done  this  thing  and  then  come  silently  ashore  to 
nurse  his  wounds. 

Presently  Whitridge  stood  at  the  head  of  the 
line.  A  man  who  looked  ill  and  who  told  the 
booking  clerk  with  a  nervous  laugh  that  he 
hadn't  seen  "  the  home  country  "  in  twenty 
years  gave  way  to  him. 

"  Now,  sir,  your  pleasure,"  said  the  clerk. 

4 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 


. . 


Oh,"  answered  Whitridge  as  if  bringing  his 
thoughts  from  a  great  distance.  "  I  wish  to — 
to  book  on  the  Cambodia,  please." 

"  She's  pretty  full,  sir,"  said  the  clerk,  with 
a  doubtful  shake  of  the  head  and  turning  away 
to  get  a  stateroom  diagram. 

A  momentary  hush  fell  on  the  crowd. 

"  Gad!  "  exclaimed  a  young  Englishman 
standing  beside  Whitridge. 

Turning,  Whitridge  followed  the  man's 
glance  toward  the  agency  entrance. 

A  woman  with  hair  of  the  color  of  gold  that 
has  been  washed  in  sea  water  was  coming  in 
out  of  the  sunshine  of  the  radiant  March  morn- 
ing. A  picture  hat  of  rough  bronze  straw  ac- 
centuated the  wealth  and  beauty  of  her  won- 
derful crown.  A  long,  loose  tan  coat,  with  full 
sleeves,  made  her  appear  a  shade  taller  than 
she  really  was,  but  her  erect,  healthy  carriage 
threw  the  garment  about  her  in  clinging  folds 
which  softened  its  fashionable'  modernness. 

She  paused  for  a  second,  a  tilt  of  inquiry  to 
her  vivid  head.  Then  she  moved  swiftly  to  the 
desk  where  Whitridge  was  standing. 

11  I  have  a  letter — I  wish  to  see  the  director 
— the  manager,  please,"  she  said  to  the  clerk 
in  a  low,  well-bred  voice. 

Looking  up,  the  clerk  gave  a  start  of  surprise, 

5 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

recovered  himself  quickly,  and  indicated  a  door 
to  the  left.  She  opened  it  and  passed  inside 
followed  by  a  woman  in  black,  evidently  a  maid. 
The  clerk's  eyes  trailed  after  her  with  some- 
thing of  awe  in  them.  There  was  hardly  a 
glance  in  the  room  which  was  not  turned  in  the 
same  direction. 

11  Out  East  here  we — we  see  nothing  but  little, 
dark  women,"  the  clerk  began  apologetically, 
facing  Whitridge  again. 

"  Ever    see  Burne- Jones'    '  Springtime  '?  ' 
interrupted    the    Englishman    eagerly.    Whit- 
ridge  nodded.    * '  Gad !    Isn  't  she  like  it  ?  "    An- 
other nod  answered  him. 

"  Now,  sir,"  interrupted  the  clerk,  spreading 
out  a  diagram.  ' '  The  Cambodia  calls  at  Hono- 
lulu, you " 

"  I  wish  to  book  through  to  San  Francisco— 
an  outside  room,  if  possible." 

"  Luck's  with  you,  sir.  The  last  one,"  and 
he  indicated  with  a  pencil  point  a  small  space 
aft  on  the  port  side.  "Whitridge  nodded  his 
acceptance  and  at  that  moment  the  office  door 
at  the  left  opened  quickly. 

A  middle-aged  man,  evidently  the  agency 
manager,  emerged,  preceding  the  "  Spring- 
time "  woman. 

11  Burr!     Reserve  an  outside  room  on  the 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

Cambodia  at  once,"  he  called  to  tlie  clerk  book- 
ing Whitridge. 

"  Too  late,  sir.  I've  just  sold  the  last  one 
to  this  gentleman." 

Whitridge  turned.  A  shadow  of  keen  disap- 
pointment passed  over  the  face  of  the  golden- 
haired  woman. 

"  Oh,  is  there  nothing  you  can  do?  "  she 
asked,  looking  at  the  manager  appealingly.  He 
glanced  at  Whitridge.  "  You  don't  know  the 
terror  I  feel — the  horror  I  have  of  being  put 
inside,"  she  went  on.  There  was  a  note  of 
genuine  distress  in  her  voice. 

"  There  is  another  ship  in  eight  days,"  an- 
swered the  manager. 

' '  But  it  is  imperative  that  I  sail  on  this  one. ' ' 

"  If  you  will  permit  me,"  interrupted  Whit- 
ridge, baring  his  head,  ' '  I  will  resign  my  room 
to  you." 

"  Oh,  but  that  would  not  be  fair.  You  are 
very  kind,  but  I — I  must  pay  for  my  lateness." 
She  met  his  gaze  with  an  honest,  uncompromis- 
ing directness  in  her  blue  eyes.  "  You " 

"  Really  it  doesn't  much  matter  where  I  am 
put, ' '  and  a  note  of  sadness  in  his  voice  brought 
an  expression  of  interest  into  her  brow.  For 
a  part  of  a  second  their  glances  held  and  then 

7 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

Whitridge  turned  to  the  clerk :  *  *  This  lady  will 
take  my  room. ' ' 

He  spoke  with  a  finality  which  evidently  was 
strange  to  her.  She  frowned  slightly  and 
started  as  if  to  protest  again. 

"  You  should  accept,  Miss  Granville,"  said 
the  manager  anxiously  and  in  a  way  that  indi- 
cated his  desire  to  please  a  person  of  some  im- 
portance. She  paused  uncertainly  as  her  lips 
framed  a  "  No,"  but  meeting  Whitridge 's  gaze 
again  she  gave  a  nod  of  decision. 

*'  I  will  accept.  You  are  rendering  me  a 
service  greater  than  you  know, ' '  she  said  grate- 
fully and  there  was  a  brilliance  as  of  tears  in 
her  eyes.  * l  I  thank  you — very  much. ' ' 

The  manager,  beaming  with  delight,  thanked 
Whitridge  and  led  her  back  to  his  private  office. 
At  the  threshold  she  paused  and  turned  to  sur- 
prise Whitridge 's  gaze  fixed  hungrily  upon  her. 
A  smile  with  which  she  intended  to  thank  him 
died  on  her  lips.  A  startled  look  came  into  her 
eyes.  She  did  not  move  until  he  turned  toward 
the  clerk,  who  was  asking  him  for  a  record  for 
the  customs '  clearance. 

"  Paul  Whitridge,  thirty-four,  master  mar- 
iner— British  subject,"  he  said,  and  the  clerk 
recalled  afterward  the  strange  hesitancy  with 
which  he  gave  his  name  and  nationality. 
8 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

The  manager  reappeared  at  this  moment  and 
began  reading  a  memorandum  to  the  clerk: 
"  Miss  Emily  Granville,  twenty-four — Ameri- 
can." Whitridge  gave  a  barely  perceptible 
start  of  surprise  as  the  name  fell  from  the  man- 
ager's  lips.  He  compressed  his  eyes  as  if  to 
shut  out  some  unpleasant  thought  or  memory. 
The  manager  threw  the  slip  of  paper  on  the 
desk.  "You  can  make  it  out,  Burr.  It's  all 
there.  Book  her  and  the  maid  that  way,"  he 
said.  Then,  turning  to  Whitridge,  he  went  on : 
"I'm  mightily  obliged  to  you,  sir.  I'll  send  a 
note  to  the  ship  asking  to  have  special  care 
taken  of  you.  She  is  one  of  the  big  stockholders 
in  the  Western  Line.  Cables  came  last  night  for 
her — she's  just  down  from  Tokyo.  Some  busi- 
ness trouble  at  home — trustee  of  her  estate 
dead.  Something  like  that.  Must  get  home  im- 
mediately. Can't  bear  to  travel  in  inside  rooms. 
She— her " 

"  It's  all  right,"  Whitridge  said,  cutting  him 
off.  "I'm  glad  to  have  been  able  to  do  it." 

He  spoke  with  an  indication  of  impatience 
in  tone  and  manner.  Without  another  word  he 
gathered  up  his  tickets  and  went  out  of  the 
agency.  The  manager  and  clerk  wished  him  a 
pleasant  voyage,  but  if  he  heard  them  he  made 
no  sign. 

9 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

"  Devilish  strange  sort,"  said  the  manager 
in  surprise. 

"I  should  say  so.  I  think  he's  the  captain 
that  brought  that  wreck  of  a  Chink  tramp  in 
here  a  couple  of  months  ago,"  answered  the 
clerk. 

"  Indeed!  "  With  this  exclamation  of  sur- 
prise the  manager  hurried  back  to  his  office 
where  Emily  Granville  was  waiting  and  think- 
ing of  the  inexpressible  sadness  she  had  seen 
in  the  face  of  the  stranger  who  had  resigned  his 
stateroom  to  her.  It  troubled  her.  In  the  in- 
stant that  she  had  turned  to  find  his  gaze  fixed 
on  her  she  saw  a  pain  in  his  eyes  so  poignant 
that  it  hurt  her.  A  soul  sounding  the  deeps  of 
anguish  seemed-  to  have  been  crying  out  just 
behind  them. 

Whitridge,  going  swiftly  along  The  Bund,  was 
torn  by  the  thoughts  which  the  name  of  Gran- 
ville had  started.  It  had  been  these  thoughts 
which  had  driven  him  out  of  the  agency  so 
strangely.  He  argued  and  argued  with  himself 
that  he  must  be  wrong;  that  there  were  un- 
doubtedly others  of  that  name  in  San  Francisco. 
He  tried  hard  to  think  of  other  things,  but  ever 
the  vision  of  this  woman  with  the  golden  hair 
remained  dominant.  It  excluded  even  the 
thought  of  his  mother  whose  message  to  come 
10 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

home  to  her  before  it  was  too  late  had  decided 
him  in  an  hour  to  cross  the  ocean.  His  remem- 
brance of  the  woman  was  so  vivid  that  she 
might  have  walked  at  his  side.  The  fragrance 
of  her  remained  in  his  nostrils.  The  atmos- 
phere of  her  girlish  freshness  clung  to  him. 
There  was  an  indefiniteness  about  her  like  the 
mystery  of  the  Spring.  The  Englishman  had 
been  right  in  thinking  she  suggested  Burne- 
Jones'  "  Springtime."  She  was  a  veritable 
gold  woman. 

As  he  came  to  the  little  hotel  hidden  away  in 
the  fringe  of  The  Bluff's  European  respecta- 
bility a  Chinaman,  waiting  as  a  dog  waits, 
greeted  him.  It  was  the  Cantonese  serang 
called  Chang,  who  had  come  out  of  the  maw  of 
death  with  him  in  the  Kau  Lung.  Yokohama 
knew  him  as  Whitridge's  shadow. 

"  Tlunk  all  pack,  master.  Him  gone  ship. 
What  time  you  sail1?  "  the  Chinaman  asked  in 
a  breath. 

"  Two  o'clock,"  he  answered  and  looked  at 
his  watch.  It  was  past  noon.  He  told  Chang 
to  call  Suki,  the  flat-faced  woman  who  ran  the 
hotel  servants  and  who  had  been  so  good  to 
him  in  his  first  few  weeks  ashore  when  the 
doctors  were  shrugging  their  shoulders  doubt- 
fully; and  her  daughter,  Oki,  and  the  boy  he 

11 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

had  nicknamed  "  Sweeney."  He  had  a  little 
present  and  a  gold  piece  for  each  of  them — two 
for  Suki. 

There  were  big  tears  in  "  Sweeney's  "  black 
eyes  when  *  *  the  honorable  captain  gentleman  ' : 
said  good-by  to  him.  He  would  never  forget 
him. 

"  Yes;  you  will  forget,  '  Sweeney,'  "  Whit- 
ridge  said  in  Japanese,  with  a  little  laugh. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  agreed  Suki,  "  he  will  forget. 
Men  forget,  but  women  always  remember." 

"  You  know  a  lot  about  life,  Suki,"  he  an- 
swered and  turned  and  went  into  the  hotel  office. 

At  Whitridge's  appearance  the  boyish-look- 
ing clerk  behind  the  desk  flushed  guiltily  and 
hid  something  under  a  book.  Whitridge  handed 
him  an  odd  silver  cigarette  case  which  the 
young  fellow  had  often  admired. 

"  Just  a  token  for  your  kindness,  my  boy," 
he  said. 

"  Gee,  I — I'm  sorry  you're  going  away,  Cap- 
tain— Whitr — Whitridge,"  stammered  the  clerk 
and  faltering  peculiarly  at  the  name.  "  I'll  al- 
ways keep  this.  What  you've  said  has  braced 
me  up  and — as  soon  as  I  get  a  little  more  money 
together  I'm  going  home.  Good-by  and — and 
the  best  of  luck  to  you." 

"  Good-by  and  good  luck  to  you,"  said  the 
12 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

departing  guest,  shaking  the  young  fellow's 
hand  heartily.  "  You'll  come  through  all 
right." 

The  clerk's  gaze  followed  Whitridge  and 
Chang  through  the  door  and  until  they  were 
clear  of  the  grounds.  Then  he  pulled  out  an 
old  newspaper.  It  was  what  he  had  hidden  at 
Whitridge 's  unexpected  appearance.  Chang 
had  dropped  it  in  packing  Whitridge 's  things. 
For  several  minutes  he  studied  the  face  which 
looked  up  at  him  from  a  mass  of  black  head- 
lines. It  was  a  portrait  of  Whitridge  beyond  a 
doubt. 

"  He's;  Lavelle  all  right — but  nobody '11  ever 
get  it  out  of  me.  He 's  square, ' '  he  muttered  to 
himself,  and  as  he  did  so  he  tore  the  paper  into 
small  bits. 


13 


CHAPTER  H 

"  You  marther  get  him  better  you  kom-men 
back?  "  asked  Chang,  breaking  a  long  silence 
as  Whitridge  and  he  came  to  the  Cambodia's 
gangway. 

Just  then  Miss  Granville  and  her  maid  went 
by,  but  Whitridge  did  not  catch  her  glance  of 
recognition. 

"  You  not — you  never  kom-men  back,"  said 
the  Chinaman,  shaking  his  head  disconsolately 
and  bringing  Whitridge 's  gaze  away  from  the 
splendid  figure  of  womanhood  moving  up  the 
gangway.  The  devotion  that  shone  in  the  yellow 
giant's  eyes  pierced  his  heart. 

'  *  Maybe,  Chang — maybe.  I  don 't  know, ' '  an- 
swered Whitridge.  "  Good-by,  old  man— 
good-by."  He  caught  Chang's  yellow  hand  and 
wrung  it  and  coolies  idling  round  wondered  at 
the  sight.  "  You're  white  all—  He  wanted 

to  tell  him  that  he  was  white  all  through,  but 
something  closed  his  throat  and  he  dared  not 
trust  himself  further.  He  fled  up  the  gangway. 

When  he  reached  the  deck  he  looked  back,  in- 
tending to  give  Chang  a  farewell  hand  wave,  but 
the  Chinaman  had  disappeared.  He  searched 
14 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

the  pier  from  end  to  end,  but  there  was  a  dim- 
ness in  his  eyes  and  they  made  no  discovery. 
He  turned  to  go  forward  and  collided  with  two 
men,  one  in  the  uniform  of  a  United  States  naval 
lieutenant  and  the  other  in  civilian  garb. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  said  quickly  and 
then  his  gaze  met  the  officer's. 

A  challenging  tenseness  straightened  Whit- 
ridge.  The  man  in  uniform  started  back  a  step 
as  if  he  had  been  struck.  Then,  his  good-look- 
ing, but  weak  face  went  pale,  his  lips  parted 
loosely,  and  his  features  became  as  expression- 
less as  so  much  putty,  under  the  glance  which 
Whitridge  shot  at  him.  It  was  a  glance  of  but 
a  second.  It  began  in  hostility  and  ended  with 
a  lash  of  contempt  as  he  swung  on  forward. 

The  naval  officer  watched  Whitridge  until  he 
disappeared  through  the  saloon  gangway. 

11  You  look  as  you  might — if  you  had  seen  a 
ghost,  Campbell,"  said  the  civilian. 

' '  I — I  thought  I  did,  Evans, ' '  stammered  the 
officer  and  making  an  effort  to  recover  control 
of  himself.  * '  I  believed — I  thought — that  man 
was  dead."  His  voice  went  to  a  whisper. 
"  That— that's  Lavelle  of  the  Yakutat." 

* l  No !    Impossible !  ' ' 

11  It's  he.  I  couldn't  be  mistaken.  He  was 
in  the  class  at  Annapolis  with  me." 

15 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

"  He's  a  rotter,  if  there  ever  was  one,"  inter- 
rupted Evans  bitterly.  The  other  nodded 
dumbly.  "  Good  thing  he  didn't  land  in  the 
navy." 

"  Until  he  was  shown  up  I  was  blamed  for — 
for  his  being  '  bilged,'  you  know.  But  really 
I  wasn't  to  blame.  Some  of  the  fellows  planted 
some  beer  and  booze  in  our  room ;  he  stood  mute, 
but  I  had  to  testify.  They  expelled  him." 

The  officer  spoke  as  if  conscience-smitten,  but 
his  companion  did  not  seem  to  be  listening  to 
him.  He  interrupted  him. 

"  It's  a  mighty  unpleasant  thing  to  think  of 
being  in  the  same  ship  with  a  man  like  that," 
he  said  very  solemnly.  As  he  spoke  a  shudder 
passed  over  him. 

The  banging  of  a  gong  and  a  cry  of  "  All 
ashore,  who 're  going  ashore!  "  cut  short  the 
conversation  and  hurried  the  officer  over  the 
side. 


16 


CHAPTER  III 

IT  was  with  his  soul  swept  by  the  pain  of  all 
the  bitterness  of  his  life  that  Whitridge  had 
turned  away  from  the  two  men  on  deck.  His 
memory  of  bitterness  began  with  Porter  Camp- 
bell. He  had  feared  from  the  day,  a  week  be- 
fore, when  the  American  cruiser  squadron  had 
put  in  to  Yokohama  that  somebody  would  recog- 
nize him.  Now  at  the  last  moment  his  appre- 
hension had  been  fulfilled.  He  knew  the  nature 
of  Campbell  too  well  to  dare  to  hope  that  he 
would  conceal  his  identity  from  the  civilian  to 
whom  he  had  been  speaking. 

Then,  in  a  flash,  he  identified  Campbell's  com- 
panion. It  was  Evans,  of  the  consulate  at  Hong- 
kong. He  had  read  in  a  paper  that  morning 
that  Evans  was  en  route  home  by  the  Cam- 
bodia. 

Just  as  he  reached  the  window  of  the  purser 's 
office  Whitridge  recognized  Emily  Granville's 
maid  standing  there.  The  thought  seized  him 
that  when  this  ship's  company  came  to  put  him 
on  the  wheel  of  scorn  that  she,  too,  must  be 
there  to  aid  in  the  torture.  He  turned  quickly 
as  if  to  retreat.  It  was  not  too  late;  he  could 

17 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

escape  the  agony  and  the  humiliation  that  he 
was  certain  was  in  store  for  him. 

Even  as  he  turned  he  paused  with  a  new  sad- 
ness. The  call  in  his  mother's  letter  which  yes- 
terday's mail  had  brought  to  him,  came  to  his 
mind.  The  words  were  burned  in  his  brain : 

"  Just  to  hold  you  in  these  withered  old  arms 
again  and  press  you  to  my  breast  as  I  used  to 
do  when  you  were  a  bonny  baby  boy — that  is 
all  I  ask.  I  would  go  through  The  Gate  happy 
— and  with  a  smile. ' ' 

He  turned  back  toward  the  window  and  as  he 
did  so  he  felt  the  throb  of  the  engines  starting 
the  Cambodia  down  to  the  sea. 

A  slight  woman  in  black,  dark  of  skin  and 
with  her  raven  hair  groomed  slickly  after  the 
fashion  of  Oriental  women,  looked  up  at  him 
with  a  surprised  but  happy  gleam  of  recogni- 
tion. Whitridge  did  not  see  her,  although  he 
appeared  to  be  looking  straight  at  her.  She 
paused,  where  she  followed  a  Chinese  steward 
aft,  and  looked  over  her  shoulder  at  him  as  he 
went  forward. 

"  Who  is  that,  Moore — the  one  in  black!  " 
asked  Evans  stepping  up  to  the  window. 
"  Something  familiar  about  her." 

"  Elsie  of  Shanghai,"  said  the  purser  in  an 
undertone.    "  Sold  out  and  going  home." 
18 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

"  Ah,"  murmured  Evans  with  a  lifting  of  his 
brows.  "  Knew  her  from  her  pictures. 
They're  in  every  conceivable  place." 

"  She  has  played  '  the  game  '  for  all  there 
was  in  it,"  answered  the  purser. 

"  Say,  Moore,"  and  Evans'  voice  was  serious, 
"  we've  picked  up  a  rotter  here  all  right."  The 
purser  glanced  up  inquisitively.  "  Lavelle  of 
the  Yakutat's  aboard." 

"  Wrong,  sir.  Can't  be.  Why — that  fellow's 
dead,  Mr.  Evans.  Died  out  East  here  some- 
where. Saw  it  in  the  home  papers  only  a  little 
while  ago." 

"  He's  not  dead  by  a  long  shot.  He's  aboard 
here." 

"  There's  no  Lavelle  on  the  passenger  list." 

' '  That  means  nothing, ' '  and  Evans  described 
Whitridge. 

"  Why,  that  man's  name's  Whitridge — an 
Englishman. ' ' 

"Well,  he's  Lavelle." 

"  He  was  here " 

The  purser  stopped  suddenly,  a  startled  look 
came  into  his  eyes ;  his  face  flushed. 

Evans,  following  his  gaze  in  wonderment, 
turned  and  stepped  quickly  aside.  Emily  Gran- 
ville  was  standing  there,  her  maid  beside  her 
carrying  a  jewel  case. 

19 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

"  I  wish  to  deposit  this  with  you,  purser," 
she  said. 

There  was  a  tremor  in  her  voice.  Every  bit 
of  color  was  gone  from  her  face.  It  might  have 
been  a  piece  of  Wedgwood.  She  paused  only 
long  enough  to  indicate  that  the  maid  would 
take  the  purser's  receipt. 

"  Lord,  but  that  woman's  a  dream,"  whis- 
pered Evans  after  the  maid  had  passed  out  of 
hearing.  The  purser  looked  up  at  him 
strangely.  "  But  say,  old  man,  what's  the  mat- 
ter with  you?  " 

"  I  wonder  if  she  heard  you  say  that — that 
Lavelle  is  aboard  here  ?  ' ' 

"Why?    What  if  she  did?  " 

"  That's  Emily  Granville,  of  San  Francisco 
— old  John  Granville's  daughter.  Granville  and 
his  wife  were  lost  with  the  Yakutat,  you  know. 
Lavelle  beat  them  away  from  the  side  of  his 
boat  with  an  oar — drowned  them. ' ' 

4  *  My  God !  ' '  exclaimed  Evans,  and  he  looked 
at  the  purser  blankly. 


20 


CHAPTER  IV 

EMILY  GEANVILLE  could  not  have  helped  hear- 
ing what  was  said  at  the  purser's  window.  The 
shock  of  the  revelation  stunned  her.  It  seemed 
impossible  that  fate  could  have  placed  her  in 
the  same  ship  with  the  man  whose  fiendishness 
had  gloomed  her  whole  life. 

With  her  nerves  overwrought  and  her  senses 
reeling,  she  sought  her  berth.  There  she  argued 
with  herself  that  the  man  who  had  spoken  to 
the  purser  must  be  mistaken.  It  was  not  true, 
she  persisted  in  thinking.  The  man  whom  the 
steamship  agency  manager  had  told  her  was 
Captain  Whitridge — the  man  who  had  given  up 
his  room  to  her — could  not  be  Lavelle.  His  was 
not  a  face  that  could  mask  such  a  fiend.  It  was 
too  fine  and  yet  the  sadness  of  it — the  pain  she 
had  seen  in  his  eyes — returned  to  startle  her. 

"  I  can't!  I  won't  believe  it!  "  she  said  to 
herself  over  and  over  again,  fighting  the  sense 
of  foreboding  that  grew  in  her  heart. 

But  dinner  time  brought  a  brutal  confirma- 
tion. A  passenger  at  the  captain's  table  where 
Emily  Granville  sat  blurted  out,  before  the 
skipper  could  stop  him,  how  the  Cambodia's 

21 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

first  officer  had  seen  the  man  called  Whitridge 
eoine  aboard  and  had  recognized  him  as  La- 
velle.  He  pointed  him  out,  sitting  with  bent 
head,  at  a  table  across  the  saloon. 

With  white  face  and  scared,  staring  eyes 
Emily  Granville  left  her  place.  Somehow  she 
got  to  her  room.  A  little  while  later  her  maid 
found  her  senseless  in  her  berth  and  revived 
her  only  to  hear  her  cry  and  moan  that  furies — 
black  furies — were  tearing  at  her  pillow.  And 
she  breathed  heavily  as  one  spent  from  swim- 
ming. 

Before  the  Cambodia  had  dropped  Mera  Head 
behind  the  horizon  the  loss  of  the  Alaskan  liner 
Yakutat  had  been  dragged  out  of  its  ten-year 
past  and  gossiped  from  one  end  of  the  ship  to 
the  other.  What  details  proved  elusive  were 
blithely  manufactured  into  the  fabric  of  a  sea 
disaster  which  had  shocked  the  world  and  made 
a  nation  ashamed.  Men  shook  their  heads  omi- 
nously and  women  shuddered  as  the  fact  passed 
from  mouth  to  mouth  that  Lavelle,  the  Ya- 
kutat's  second  officer,  who  had  beaten  drowning 
passengers  with  an  oar,  was  among  them. 
When  it  became  known  that  Emily  Granville, 
whose  parents  had  been  driven  away  from  La- 
velle 's  boat,  was  also  in  the  Cambodia  arid  lying 
ill  in  her  room  from  the  shock  of  knowing  that 
22 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

Lavelle  was  a  fellow-passenger,  a  tenseness 
came  upon  things  that  made  the  nerves  of  the 
liner's  officers  raw. 

Paul  Lavelle  did  not  enter  the  dining  saloon 
after  that  first  night.  It  became  known  that  he 
took  his  meals  in  his  room  and  left  it  only  after 
darkness  fell.  Watch  officers  saw  him  from 
the  bridge  now  and  then — a  shadow  in  the 
night. 

"  Wandering  around  like  a  pariah  dog,"  one 
of  them  told  a  passenger.  Often  they  saw 
"  The  Shadow  "  as  late  as  dawn. 

But  this  night — it  was  the  fifth  out  of  Yoko- 
hama— the  deck  saw  "  The  Shadow  "  earlier 
than  it  was  his  wont  to  appear.  The  saloon  was 
bright  and  gay  with  an  entertainment  and  La- 
velle was  taking  advantage  of  this.  He  met 
only  one  or  two  straying  couples  in  the  darkness 
and  they  soon  went  inside.  It  was  not  a  night 
that  invited  one  with  moon  or  star.  He  could 
remember  few  nights  like  it.  It  was  a  dead 
black — shocking  in  its  intensity.  The  Cambodia 
might  have  been  a  ship  without  funnels  or 
masts.  Everything  was  cut  off  sheer  by  the 
blackness.  There  was  a  light  breeze  which 
seemed  to  dart  out  from  every  point  of  the 
compass  at  once.  It  whimpered  as  it  went  bjr 
his  ears. 

23 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

After  a  long,  steady,  hard  walk  "  The  Shad- 
ow "  sought  out  his  favorite  vigil  post  against 
the  pipe  rail  under  the  weather  wing  of  the 
bridge.  It  was  to  port  to-night,  although  it 
was  hard  to  tell  the  weather  side  from  the  lee. 
He  gleaned  some  comfort  from  the  thought  that 
the  liner  was  rapidly  slipping  down  to  "  the 
corner  " — the  intersection  of  the  180th  meridian 
and  the  30th  parallel — through  which  ships 
great  circle  between  Yokohama  and  the  Ha- 
waiian Islands.  She  was  due  to  turn  it  the  fol- 
lowing afternoon  and  that  meant  half  his  pas- 
sage in  her  done.  He  had  determined  to  quit 
the  ship  at  Honolulu. 

Just  after  the  lights  went  out  in  the  saloon 
at  one  bell — a  half-hour  after  midnight — and 
the  silence  of  the  dark  hours  had  settled  upon 
the  ship,  he  sensed  somebody  stealing  along  the 
side  of  the  deck  house.  He  fixed  a  shape  finally, 
but  no  sooner  had  he  done  so  than  it  disap- 
peared. He  could  not  tell  whether  it  was  the 
form  of  a  man  or  woman.  Then,  he  heard  a 
heavy  breath  at  his  feet  and  jumped  back  de- 
fensively. A  hand  touched  him  and  he 
grabbed  it. 

"  Master!  "  whispered  a  voice  in  Chinese. 
Chang  rose  beside  him. 

"  Chang,"  was  all  he  could  say.  He  was 
24 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

overwhelmed  by  the  loyalty  of  this  yellow  heart 
which  could  give  and  give  and  ask  no  return. 

* '  I  stow  way.  Make  him  work — shubbel  coal 
like  hell.  No  can  kom-men  here  bee-fore.  I  go 
'Flisco."  Lavelle  heard  the  sound  of  a  heavy 
footfall  approaching.  Chang's  ears  caught  it, 
too.  "  Good-by.  To-mollah  night  I  kom-men 
gain." 

A  lantern  light  cut  the  darkness  and  the 
ship's  night  watchman  dashed  round  from  the 
lee  side  of  the  deck  house,  with  a  club  raised  to 
strike.  He  lowered  his  arm  as  he  discovered 
Lavelle. 

"  Seen  anything  of  a  big  coolie  stoker  round 
here,  sir?  " 

"  No,"  answered  Lavelle. 

"  Been  tryin'  to  get  aroun'  up  here  the  past 
three  nights,"  and  the  watchman  muttered  off 
into  the  blackness. 

"  The  Shadow  "  pondered  a  long  time  as  to 
what  he  could  do  for  Chang,  but  he  could  come 
to  no  decision.  The  thought  that  he  was  in  the 
ship  cheered  him  though  as  he  went  to  his  room. 
That  hand  in  the  darkness  and  the  hand-clasp  of 
a  frail  woman  in  black — one  with  her  cage  in 
the  zoo  of  life  like  himself — were  the  only 
friendly  touches  which  had  come  to  him.  Elsie 
of  Shanghai  was  grateful,  and  had  sought  him 

25 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

out  the  night  of  sailing  to  tell  him  so,  because 
he  had  kept  her  alive.  She  would  never  forget 
that  he  had  sheltered  her  from  death  in  the 
Shanghai  riots.  Chang  would  lay  down  his  life 
to  pay  the  debt  he  considered  he  owed  him  for 
saving  his  yellow  carcass  from  the  knives  of  a 
drunken  mob  of  sailors.  Everybody  wanted  to 
cling  to  life  and  he  smiled  grimly  to  himself  in 
the  darkness  at  the  thought.  He  had  removed 
his  overcoat  and  coat  and  as  he  put  out  his  hand 
to  grope  for  the  electric  flash  he  muttered, 
' '  What  a  comedy !  What  a  comedy !  ' ! 

The  next  instant  he  was  pitched  headlong 
against  the  side  of  the  vessel  by  a  shock  which 
rattled  her  like  an  empty  basket.  A  sea  slapped 
through  the  open  port  of  the  room  and  choked 
him  with  its  brine. 


26 


CHAPTER  V 

LAVELLE  dragged  himself  to  his  feet  with  his 
breath  gone  from  him.  For  a  moment  he 
thought  he  was  paralyzed — limbs,  heart,  nor 
brain  seemed  to  respond.  The  night  was  filled 
with  a  multisonous  orgy  of  sound. 

Then,  his  strength  returned  to  him  as  quickly 
as  it  had  gone.  He  leaped  to  the  door  and 
plunged  into  the  alleyway  outside.  He  knew  full 
well  what  had  happened  as  he  ran  aft  and  up 
through  the  gangway  which  led  from  the  main 
to  the  promenade  deck.  Another  vessel  had 
piled  into  the  Cambodia.  There  was  no  land- 
there  were  no  rocks  in  the  liner's  track;  nothing 
but  two,  three,  and  four  mile  deeps  on  every 
hand.  Lights  sprang  up  in  the  staterooms  as 
he  passed.  Somebody  flashed  them  on  in  the 
reception  hall  as  he  went  through  there. 
Thence  he  took  the  social  hall  gangway  and 
came  to  the  boat  deck  in  a  bound. 

A  quartermaster — barely  more  than  a  boy — 
catapulted  into  his  arms.  Fear  was  driving 
him. 

"  Let  me  go !  "  he  cried  like  a  thing  in  a  trap. 

27 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

"  Let  me  go!  "  and  he  cursed.  Lavelle  held 
him  firmly. 

"  Stand  fast,  son!    You're  all  right!  " 

Lavelle  spoke  in  almost  a  normal  tone. 
Whether  it  was  what  he  said  or  what  he  saw 
in  Lavelle 's  face  that  stilled  the  panic  in  the 
youngster's  heart  no  one  will  ever  know.  But 
when  Lavelle  let  him  go  and  beckoned  to  him 
to  follow  him  the  quartermaster  went  at  his 
side. 

"  Everything's  gone  for'ard!  "  he  yelled  at 
Lavelle  above  the  noise.  "  Windjammer — big 
lumberman — no  lights — piled  into  us!  Fore- 
mast came  over — by  the  board!  Bridge — Old 
Man  —  chart  house  —  everybody  —  everything 
gone!  " 

Lavelle  snatched  these  things  visually  out  of 
the  blackness  even  as  the  boy  shouted. 

The  Cambodia  rolled  back  slowly  to  star- 
board, but  one  who  knew  what  Lavelle  knew 
could  feel  the  life  going  out  of  her.  Her  en- 
gines had  stopped. 

The  shape  of  a  sailing  vessel — a  bark — drew 
away  over  on  the  starboard  side  and  the  grind- 
ing of  metal  against  metal  ceased  only  to  have 
its  place  taken  by  the  thunder  of  the  Cambodia 
beginning  to  exhaust.  Lavelle  could  hear  and 
feel  the  stranger  ripping  at  the  steamer  as  she 
28 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

went  by.  The  Cambodia  gave  a  lurch  like  a 
drunken  man  getting  out  of  a  gutter. 

"  She's  going!  "  he  shouted  in  the  boy's  ear, 
snatching  his  head  to  his  lips.  "  Engineers- 
all  officers  report  here!  Me!  Find  out  what 
water's  in  her!  Find  out  how  long  lights '11 
last!  Tell  'em  give  us  plenty  of  light.  Be  a 
man!  " 

The  boy  fled  and  Lavelle  ran  up  to  starboard 
and  bawled  against  the  night : 

"Stand  by  if  you're  able!  Stand  by!" 
There  was  an  answering  cry,  but  all  he  caught 
was—  "  Hell!  " 

Groping  he  found  an  electric  cluster  on  each 
side  of  the  social  hall  house  and  flashed  it  on. 
He  ran  aft  and  flashed  on  similar  clusters  on  the 
sides  of  the  smoke-room  house.  These  lights 
embraced  the  eight  small  boats  davited  along 
the  Cambodia's  sides. 

From  below  men  began  to  come  by  twos  and 
threes,  some  supporting  women  on  their  arms, 
some  carrying  them,  some  carrying  children, 
some  alone  with  fear  tangling  their  feet  and 
some  half  curiously.  One  came  lighting  a  ciga- 
rette— a  fair-faced  young  chap — and  Lavelle 
grabbed  him  in  the  social  hall  gangway  and  told 
him  to  let  only  women  and  children  pass. 

61  Right  0!  "  was  his  answer  and  he  took  off 

29 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

his  coat  and  threw  it  away,  accepting  his  task. 

The  glow  of  a  man  who  would  be  obeyed  was 
on  Lavelle's  brow.  Men  knew  he  spoke  with 
the  voice  of  authority  and  heeded  it.  They  saw 
the  purser  refuse  to  hold  the  gangway  in  the 
social  hall  beside  the  fair-faced  man  and  they 
saw  Lavelle  smash  him  to  the  deck  with  a  blow 
of  his  fist. 

Looking  up  from  the  deck  below  Emily  Gran- 
ville  saw  this,  too,  and,  terrified,  fled  from  suc- 
coring hands.  She  saw  only  a  fiend  at  work. 

"  Twenty  minutes!  No  longer!  Lights — ten 
minutes!  "  shouted  the  quartermaster  strug- 
gling to  his  side. 

"  What  about  the  steerage?  ' 

"  Gone  like  rats!    Whole  bow's  gone!  " 

He  pantomimed  him  to  take  charge  of  a  boat 
forward  on  the  starboard  side.  A  grimy  en- 
gineer came  through  the  crowd  and  reported. 
Others  came  and  accepted  his  mastership — men 
who  needed  but  to  be  told  what  to  do  to  find 
their  bearings  and  run  in  them. 

Like  a  flame  he  moved  upon  that  deck.  Who 
he  might  be  few  knew,  but  wheresoever  he  went 
disorder  became  order  and  the  spirits  of  brave 
men  grew  stronger  and  smiled  at  death  as  upon 
a  friend.  Like  another  self — the  shadow  of  the 
flame — there  moved  Chang  whither  he  went, 
30 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

striking  as  he  struck  and  lifting  up  as  he  lifted 
up. 

Of  a  sudden  Lavelle  saw  Emily  Granville 
standing  in  the  port  gangway  of  the  smoke- 
room  house,  alone,  hesitant,  terror-stricken. 
She  saw  him  and  as  he  ran  to  her  with  open 
arms  she  drew  back  and  then,  remembering  that 
he  had  but  turned  away  from  a  boat  in  which 
she  had  seen  him  put  a  little  girl,  who  cried  that 
God  must  be  upon  the  sea,  she  paused  in  her 
flight. 

In  that  instant  the  guards  whom  Lavelle  had 
stationed  there  were  swept  away  by  a  yellow 
horde  from  below.  It  burst  out  of  the  gangway 
and  engulfed  him  in  its  tide. 

There  was  an  explosion  as  of  a  cannon  fired 
in  the  distance  where  another  bulkhead  gave 
way.  The  ship  lurched  with  a  downward  twist- 
ing motion.  The  lights  flickered  and  went  out 
and  the  pregnant  darkness  burst  in  disorder  and 
panic. 


31 


CHAPTER  VI 

DAWN  suddenly  broke  upon  a  sea  snarling 
under  the  lash  of  a  heavy  northeasterly.  Emily 
Granville,  her  eyes  pressed  against  the  black- 
ness, saw  it  as  from  a  mountain  peak.  The  next 
instant  she  was  hurtling,  twisting  downward 
through  space,  sightless ;  her  breath  stopped. 

The  sensation  of  falling  ceased.  There  was 
a  hardly  perceptible  pause  amid  a  stinging 
smother  of  spray  and  then  came  the  sensation 
of  being  lifted — of  rising  swiftly.  She  caught 
a  breath  and  opened  her  eyes ;  and  again  from  a 
seeming  great  height  she  beheld  in  awe  the 
youth  of  the  day  striding  across  an  angry  waste 
of  waters. 

The  terrific  buffeting  of  the  boat,  under  the 
gunwale  of  which  she  crouched,  had  been  going 
on  for  hours.  Until  this  moment  she  had  been 
only  dimly  conscious  of  it  because  the  darkness 
gives  one  no  background ;  no  line  of  contrast  by 
which  the  mind  may  measure  its  impressions. 
One  thought  only  had  lived  persistently:  that 
her  reason  might  leave  her.  It  still  endured. 
But  the  human  mind  installed  in  a  normal, 
healthy  body  like  hers  does  not  break  so  easily. 
32 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

No  one  becomes  insane  quickly  any  more  than 
one  becomes  a  thief  quickly.  A  long  process  of 
decay  must  precede. 

As  Emily's  body  readjusted  itself  to  the 
cockleshell's  wild  movements  her  senses  began  * 
to  recover  their  power  of  apprehension.  She 
realized  that  she  was  clutching  a  hand — a  hand 
she  remembered  snatching  out  of  the  night  as 
the  vortex  of  the  sinking  Cambodia  seemed 
about  to  suck  the  boat  down  to  the  deeps. 
Through  the  eternity  of  blackness  which  had 
passed  its  touch  had  been  her  link  to  sentient 
life.  She  held  it  up  now  and  saw  that  it  was 
the  hand  of  a  strong  man,  with  a  strange  ring 
of  green  jade  upon  it.  The  hand  closed  upon 
hers  gently  and  trustfully. 

Then,  she  became  aware  that  a  weight  was 
upon  her  limbs  and  she  looked  down.  A  man's 
head  lay  in  her  lap  just  free  of  the  foaming 
wash  in  the  boat's  bottom.  It  was  the  hand  of 
this  man  that  she  clasped  and  that  was  clasping 
hers  tightly.  She  bent  closer,  with  a  new  fear 
starting  in  her  heart  for  the  face  was  very 
white.  A  stronger  volume  of  light  shot  into 
the  heavens.  It  was  the  man  Whitridge — La- 
velle ! 

The  boat  plunged  from  the  crest  of  a  gray- 
backed  comber  and  ended  its  descent  with  a 

33 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

racking  jerk.  Emily  Granville  was  thrown 
across  Lavelle,  her  face  pressed  against  his 
spray-wet  lips.  She  struggled  to  draw  away, 
but  the  sea,  as  if  in  mockery,  held  her  close  to 
this  man  and  weltered  them  in  its  spume. 

When  the  boat  rose  again  she  straightened 
with  a  shudder.  A  wave  of  horror  mixed  with 
hateful  revulsion  swept  over  her.  She  tried  to 
pull  herself  away  from  him,  but  the  weight  of 
his  head  and  shoulders  and  a  woman  cowering 
at  her  side  pinned  her  down.  She  freed  one  of 
her  hands,  but  Lavelle 's  held  the  other  in  a 
grip  which  her  strength  could  not  break. 

Then,  gradually,  her  natural  spirit  of  justice 
and  humanity  assumed  rule,  overcoming  even 
what  had  been  almost  an  obsession  since  child- 
hood— her  repugnance  of  physical  contact.  The 
water  in  the  boat  was  so  deep  that  she  realized 
that  if  she  put  this  man's  head  away  from  her 
lap  it  must  sink.  Perhaps  he  was  dying — per- 
haps death  had  already  claimed  him  and  as  this 
thought  came  to  her  she  saw  the  open  wound 
in  his  brow  just  back  of  another  jagged  -scar. 

The  humility  of  shame  bowed  her  head  and 
her  eyes  filled  with  tears.  This  man  had  suf- 
fered this  wound  for  her  sake;  he  had  come  to 
her  in  the  night  when  all  hope  had  gone;  he 
had  snatched  her  from  the  clutches  of  wild 
34 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

beasts,  who  had  shot  him  down  even  as  he  laid 
her  in  this  boat.  It  was  because  of  him  that  she 
lived. 

She  felt  a  tremor  pass  from  Lavelle's  body 
into  hers.  His  lips  parted  with  a  sigh  and  he 
murmured  something  wearily.  Then,  his  eyes 
opened  for  a  second.  He  looked  up  into  her 
face  with  the  glance  of  a  tired  child,  yet  without 
recognition,  and  her  heart  gave  a  sudden  fearful 
throb.  She  thought  it  was  pity  and  knew  it  not 
for  the  stirring  of  the  eternal  motherhood  that 
is  in  all  women. 

A  gust  of  wind  swept  Emily's  thick  plaits  of 
golden  hair  across  his  face  and  his  eyes  closed 
again,  the  while  a  faint  smile  flickered  across 
his  lips  like  one  returning  to  a  pleasant  dream. 
He  snuggled  his  head  closer  against  the  thigh 
which  was  numb  from  pillowing  it  and  the 
woman  did  not  move. 

Chang,  looking  down  from  where  he  stood 
over  them  in  the  stern,  like  a  giant  in  bronze, 
nursing  the  boat  up  to  a  sea  anchor,  alone  had 
glimpsed  what  had  happened.  He  shouted 
something  which  Emily  could  not  understand. 
Stooping  quickly  he  slipped  a  hand  through  La- 
velle's  tattered  shirt. 

"  More  better,"  he  said.  "  Him  heart  move. 
Him  live — you  live.  Sab-bee  1  ' ' 

35 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

The  Chinaman's  glance  and  the  forceful  nod 
of  his  head  conveyed  a  meaning  greater  than 
his  words.  They  implied  a  task  for  her  per- 
formance— the  doing  of  what  was  in  her  power 
to  do  for  this  man. 

A  horrifying  cry  from  forward  straightened 
the  giant  in  a  flash.  One  glance  ahead  and  he 
gave  the  big  steering  oar  a  mighty  sweep.  He 
seemed  to  lift  the  boat  bodily  out  of  the  water. 
A  stream  of  orders  poured  from  his  lips  and 
electrified  every  bit  of  life  in  the  cockleshell, 
save  that  in  Lavelle. 

It  took  but  a  glimpse  overside  to  transport 
these  sea  waifs  from  their  horror  of  the  night 
into  a  terror  of  the  day.  Elsie  of  Shanghai 
started  from  Emily's  side  into  a  sitting  posture 
only  to  hide  her  head  again.  A  man  with  a 
pointed  black  beard  rose  to  his  knees  between 
the  second  and  third  thwarts  and  gazed  round 
him  in  terror.  Two  of  the  three  Chinese  in  the 
bows  seized  oars  and  stood  like  warders  at  a 
gate. 

The  boat  was  riding  in  a  mass  of  planks  and 
railroad  ties — the  deckload  of  the  stranger 
which  had  sent  the  Cambodia  to  the  bottom. 
Every  sea  was  armed  and  eager  with  death. 
Some  carried  their  bludgeons  and  clubs  openly ; 
others  hid  them  under  their  white-crested  capes, 
36 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

flashing  them  out  treacherously  and  suddenly 
as  the  boat  rode  wildly  to  the  assault.  The  sides 
and  bottom  of  the  boat  would  have*  been  no 
more  than  paper  under  the  slightest  blow  from 
a  piece  of  this  wreckage :  a  touch  and  every  life 
in  it  would  have  been  flotsam.  Hunger,  thirst, 
and  the  terrors  of  the  night  were  forgotten  in 
the  menace  of  the  battle  which  the  yellow  giant 
at  the  steering  oar  captained  with  a  master 
hand. 

The  white  man,  kneeling  between  the  thwarts, 
began  shouting  orders  and  warnings.  Chang, 
his  thick  cue  streaming  in  the  wind,  his  jaw  set, 
his  face  as  expressionless  as  a  piece  of  parch- 
ment, seemed  oblivious  of  what  this  white  man 
did  until  he  saw  him  start  to  heave  his  big  form 
to  a  standing  position.  Then  he  hurled  a  curse 
at  him  that  was  like  a  blow — a  curse  learned  of 
the  sea  and  white  men's  lips. 

But  to  the  women  the  giant  kept  calling, 
"  Bimeby  him  all  go  way!  "  and  there  was  faith 
in  his  voice  and  it  passed  into  their  hearts.  As 
often  as  the  boat  shuddered  from  an  assault 
cheated  of  its  death  strength  he  abjured  them 
to  be  unafraid.  No  white  man  could  have  been 
more  gentle  or  thoughtful. 

Through  it  all  Emily  Granville  clung  to  La- 
velle's  hand  as  she  had  in  the  night.  What  the 

37 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

Chinaman  had  said  kept  forcing  itself  upper- 
most in  her  mind — if  the  man  who  lay  across 
her  lived,  all  would  live. 

Even  as  Chang  had  promised  the  boat  passed 
out  of  the  wreckage.  The  wind  dropped  sud- 
denly and  peace  began  its  entrance  into  the 
sea's  worried  blue  bosom.  The  sun,  leaping  to 
its  day's  work  overhead,  touched  the  boat  with 
its  warmth.  Emily,  following  Chang's  glance 
round  the  horizon,  saw  a  speck  away  to  leeward. 
It  might  be  another  boat  he  told  her. 

"  Hi !  "  cried  one  of  the  coolies  forward, 
pointing  up  to  windward  where  the  broken  half 
of  a  boat  went  by. 

"  No  good  look  him  that  way!  "  shouted 
Chang,  but  too  late.  Emily  and  Shanghai  Elsie 
saw  the  grim  sea  grist  and  the  body  of  a  little 
boy  in  pajamas  tangled  in  it.  Their  eyes  met— 
the  Magdalen's  and  hers  of  the  sheltered  life — 
and  they  wept  together,  cheek  against  cheek,  in 
an  understanding  of  woman's  heritage  of  po- 
tential motherhood. 

In  the  midst  of  Chang's  tongue-lashing  of  the 
coolie  who  had  discovered  the  wrecked  boat, 
Lavelle  stirred  into  consciousness.  Elsie  was 
the  first  to  see  his  eyes  open  and  stare  upward 
blankly. 

"  Thank  God  he  is  living,"  she  murmured. 
38 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

1 '  Thank  God  I  ' '  and  as  she  spoke  he  sat  up  with 
a  start,  tearing  his  hand  from  Emily's.  He 
gazed  round  him  wildly  for  a  moment,  his  eyes 
finally  settling  on  Emily  with  a  gleam  of  recog- 
nition. 

"  You,"  he  murmured  in  a  tone  of  awe. 
Chang's  chattering  went  unheeded.  He  passed 
a  hand  across  his  brow  and  at  the  touch  the 
bullet  wound  over  his  temple  began  to  bleed 
afresh.  His  head  rocked  with  pain  and  he 
pressed  it  in  both  hands  until  it  seemed  that  he 
must  crush  the  skull. 

"  Don't,  don't,"  Emily  protested,  but  he  did 

not  hear  her.  '  *  You  would  better You  are 

ill.  Lie  down  again,  please." 

"  Somebody  struck  me Oh,  yes — they 

shot  me.  I  don't  know — I  don't  know  why," 
and  a  low  moan  escaped  from  him. 

The  Shanghai  woman  begged  him  to  lie  down 
again,  but  he  shook  his  head.  He  looked  at  his 
hands.  They  were  wet  with  blood.  Then  he 
began  to  examine  his  shirt  for  something  with 
which  to  bind  his  brow.  It  was  sleeveless;  the 
arms  had  been  ripped  out  of  the  pits ;  the  body 
of  it  was  in  ribbands. 

11  If  I  had  something — to  tie "  Lavelle 

began,  and  then  called  Chang. 

"  I  have  nothing,"  said  Elsie,  conscious  for 

39 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

the  first  time  that  she  had  escaped  from  the 
Cambodia  in  only  a  black  satin  kimono  and  the 
flimsy  silken  nightdress  which  it  covered.  Even 
as  she  spoke  Emily  struggled  up  from  the 
bottom  of  the  boat  to  the  fore-and-aft  seat 
against  which  her  head  had  been  resting.  With 
a  splendid  unconsciousness  of  self  she  opened 
the  long  tan  coat — the  one  in  which  Lavelle  had 
first  beheld  her — raised  an  outer  black  skirt 
and  with  a  swift  movement  ripped  off  the  deep 
hem  of  the  night  robe  which  it  hid. 

Lavelle  was  facing  away  from  her,  but  he 
opened  his  eyes  at  that  moment  to  see  the 
strange  man  seated  in  front  of  him  start  up, 
with  a  smile  of  strange  curiousness  in  his  dark 
face.  Emily  saw  this  smile,  too,  with  disgust, 
and  hesitated  in  her  purpose.  Then  she  leaned 
toward  Lavelle  and  said  quickly : 

* 4  If  you  will  bend  back  your  head — a  little. ' ' 

He  leaned  toward  her  obediently  and  she  ban- 
daged the  wound  with  an  efficiency  that  brought 
nods  of  approval  from  Elsie  and  Chang,  both 
ignorant  of  this  woman's  latent  powers  of 
hardy  usefulness  and  physical  capacity — the 
heritage  of  a  pioneer  stock  that  had  torn  a  world 
out  of  a  wilderness. 

11  I  thank  you,"  said  Lavelle  simply  and  he 
faced  her.  "  Just  as  soon  as  I  get  this  blood 
40 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

pressure  out  of  my  head  I  will — things  will  be 
all  right."  She  saw  his  jaw  muscles  flex  with 
the  pain  which  tore  at  him,  and  his  thoughts 
were  of  the  kindness  and  the  bigness  of  heart 
that  would  let  this  woman  touch  him.  She  felt 
his  eyes  sweep  over  her  from  her  slippered  bare 
feet  to  the  crown  of  her  head,  but  there  was 
something  impersonal  in  his  glance  which  cooled 
the  resentment  which  flushed  to  her  cheeks.  It 
was  not  like  the  glance  of  the  bearded  man  down 
between  the  thwarts. 

It  was  this  man  speaking  loudly  and  in  a 
strange  foreign  accent,  which  she  had  unmarked 
before,  that  turned  Lavelle  away  from  her. 

"  We  cannot  be  lying  here  idly  like  this,"  he 
was  saying  to  Lavelle.  He  stood  up  as  he  spoke 
and  threw  a  leg  over  the  after  thwart. 

"  Who  are  you?  "  asked  Lavelle  quietly. 

"  If  you  had  been  about  the  ship  you  would 
know,  Mr.  Lavelle,"  he  sneered.  "  For  your 
information  I  am  Orloff  Eowgowskii.  I  am  a 
seaman — an  officer — and  I  will  take  charge  here. 
These  ladies  are  intrusted  in  my  charge." 

Not  a  muscle  of  Lavelle  *s  face  moved.  He 
spoke  over  his  shoulder  to  Chang.  He  asked 
Chang  something  in  Chinese  only  to  have  the 
giant  blaze  over  his  head  angrily  at  the  man 
who  called  himself  Eowgowskii : 

41 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

"  Whachamalla  you?  Wliat  for!  You  clay- 
zee?  " 

The  coolie  drew  the  steering  oar  inboard,  for 
it  was  now  nearly  a  dead  calm.  A  shake  of 
Lavelle's  head  silenced  his  angry  chatter  in- 
stantly. 

"  My  serang — Chang  there  tells  me  this  is  his 
boat;  that  he  has  been  in  command  since  we 
abandoned  the  ship." 

11  Yes,"  interrupted  Elsie,  pausing  in  wring- 
ing the  water  from  her  streaming  black  hair. 
"  We  wouldn't  have  been  here  now  if  it  hadn't 
been  for  that  Canton  coolie."  She  broke  off 
quickly  in  Chinese  and  spoke  to  Chang. 

"  He  is  a  very  good  sailor — a  very  good 
sailor,"  said  Rowgowskii.  "  He  will  be  of  use 
— and  I  will  use  you,  too,  Lavelle — properly,  if 
you  behave.  If  not —  He  shrugged  his 

shoulders.  ' '  I  have  the  means  to  enforce  obedi- 
ence." He  glanced  from  Lavelle  toward  Emily 
and  Elsie.  "  We  shall  have  order  here,  ladies, 
and—  You  may  trust  me."  From  them  he 
turned  to  Chang.  '  *  Tell  those  men  to  get  that 
sea  anchor  aboard  and  set  that  sail." 

"  My  flen,  you  more  better  sit  down.  Huh! 
You  may  get  kill,"  said  Chang. 

"  Mutiny  already!  "  exclaimed  Rowgowskii, 
42 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

straightening  and  with  his  hand  going  toward 
his  hip. 

"  My  God!  aren't  we  miserable  enough!  " 
shrieked  the  Shanghai  woman. 

Terror  locked  Emily's  lips. 

"  Don't,"  said  Lavelle  quietly,  but  in  a  tone 
fraught  with  menace. 

"  Get  up  out  of  that  and  go  to  your  work!  " 
snarled  Eowgowskii,  and  he  whipped  out  a  re- 
volver. 

In  that  instant  Lavelle  rose  like  a  rattler  from 
a  coil.  There  was  a  crunching  of  bone  against 
bone  as  his  fist  landed  full  in  Eowgowskii 's  face 
and  sent  him  spinning  overboard.  The  weapon 
spun  in  the  air  and  fell  at  Emily's  feet. 

Lavelle  staggered  from  the  force  of  his  blow. 
His  eyes  closed  and  he  put  his  hands  to  his 
brow.  He  would  have  fallen  if  it  had  not  been 
for  Chang,  who  caught  him  and  stretched  him 
along  the  seat  opposite  Emily.  There  he 
swooned. 

Emily  shrank  forward  and  away  from  him 
in  terror.  This  was  the  Lavelle  of  the  Yakutat 
who  filled  her  dreams;  this  the  brute  who  had 
shadowed  her  childhood  and  filled  her  nights 
with  fearful  shapes. 

'  *  What  a  fiend,  what  a  fiend, ' '  she  whispered 
to  the  Shanghai  woman. 

43 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

"  He's  a  white  man — you  don't  know — you 
don't  understand,"  Elsie  answered  and  raised 
a  barrier  between  them  with  the  words. 

Both  women,  looking  over  the  side,  saw  Row- 
gowskii  swimming  desperately  toward  the  sea 
anchor.  His  cries  for  aid  went  unheeded  by 
either  Chang  or  the  three  coolies  who  were 
cowering  in  the  bows.  Chang  picked  up  the  re- 
volver from  the  bottom  of  the  boat.  The  act 
was  portentous. 

"  For  God's  love !  "  cried  Elsie,  beginning  an 
appeal  which  trailed  off  into  an  outburst  in  the 
Chinese  tongue. 

Chang  shook  his  head  obdurately.  He  nodded 
toward  Lavelle. 

"  They're  going  to  let  him  drown,"  she  told 
Emily  hysterically.  ' '  Weren't  enough  drowned 
last  night?  This  Chinaman  will  not  do  anything 
unless  Captain  Whitridge  tells  him." 

"  Him  bad  man.  More  better  die,"  said 
Chang  to  Emily. 

Again  there  was  a  cry  from  Rowgowskii  and 
the  boat  moved  with  a  quick  jerk  as  he  caught 
hold  of  the  anchor  drogue. 

These  cries  brought  to  Emily  Gr  anvil!  e  a 
memory  so  poignant  and  vivid  that  action  was 
born  of  the  shock.  She  moved  swiftly  from  the 
44 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

Shanghai  woman's  side  and  shook  Lavelle  by 
the  shoulder. 

"  Tell  these  Chinamen — tell  them  not  to  let 
this  man  drown !  ' '  she  cried  at  him. 

Lavelle  sat  up  with  a  moan.  His  head 
dropped  forward. 

"  Don't  you  hear!  Haven't  you  murdered 
enough  already?  Are  you  altogether  a  fiend? 
Hear  him  crying  now!  " 

Lavelle  straightened.  She  shrank  from  the 
glance  he  leveled  upon  her.  It  was  defiant,  fear- 
less, burning  with  challenge. 

"  I  never :  His  lips,  forming  in  a  tense 

straight  line,  cut  the  speech  off  sharply  at  the 
breath  of  another  word.  The  old  look  of  pain 
came  into  his  eyes — the  pain  she  had  seen  there 
when  he  stood  at  the  desk  in  the  steamship 
agency — and  he  turned  away. 

Bowgowskii  had  crawled  along  the  drogue 
and  was  hanging  now  to  the  bow.  Lavelle 
hurled  an  angry  order  in  Chinese  at  the  coolies 
forward  and  they  sprang  to  their  feet.  They 
dragged  Kowgowskii  aboard  and  dropped  him 
in  an  exhausted,  shivering  heap. 

Chang  moved  aft  to  where  Lavelle  sank 
wearily  on  the  seat  built  against  the  air-tank 
casing  and  handed  him  the  revolver.  He  began 
an  apology. 

45 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

"  More  better  him  dead,"  he  said,  and  Lavelle 
silenced  him  with  one  word  that  made  the  giant 
cower  beside  him  like  a  dog  under  a  lash. 

Emily,  seeing  this,  wondered,  for  she  recalled, 
with  a  shudder,  the  fierceness  of  this  big  yellow 
man  in  the  night. 


46 


CHAPTER  VII 

As  the  dawn  had  come  quickly,  BO  order 
sprang  out  of  chaos  under  Lavelle's  quiet  voice 
of  command.  There  was  no  shouting ;  no  bluster 
—a  certain  proof  always  that  it  has  been  given 
to  a  man  to  speak  with  authority.  A  word — 
more  often  it  was  but  a  nod  or  a  wave  of  the 
hand — and  as  if  by  magic  these  yellow  men 
translated  it  into  some  needed  action. 

One  of  the  first  things  Lavelle  caused  to  be 
done  was  the  moving  of  the  boat's  two  water 
breakers  aft.  He  gave  each  one  a  drink,  appor- 
tioning to  the  coolies  what  he  gave  to  the  others 
and  even  rousing  the  Russian  for  his  share. 
When  it  came  to  his  turn  to  drink  he  paused 
and,  with  one  scarred  arm  resting  across  his 
knee,  looked  out  across  the  sea  mystically.  He 
turned  quickly  toward  the  women,  after  several 
minutes. 

"  I  wish  to  say  a  word  to  you,  Miss  Gran- 
rille,"  he  said  in  the  quiet  low  tone  which 
seemed  to  be  invariably  his  manner  of  speak- 
ing. His  glance  rested  on  her  but  for  a  mo- 
ment, and  then  passed  to  Elsie.  "  And  to  you, 
too,  Mrs.  Moore :  I  want  you  both  to  know  that 

47 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

I  am  very  sorry  that  this  terrible  thing  lias 
happened  to  you.  Yet  women  can  be  brave.  I 
have  met  brave  men,  but  never  any  braver  than 
you  two  women  at  this  moment.  Because  you 
are  brave  I  have  chosen  to  speak  to  you  as  I 
am  doing.  I  want  you  to  feel — to  know  that  I 
appreciate  your  trying  position.  I  will  en- 
deavor to  make  things  as  easy  as  I  can  for  you 
—so  you  may  not  be  ashamed — as  I  should 
wish  my  mother  and  my  sister  to  go  unashamed. 
We  may  be  together  only  a  short  time — maybe 
a  very  long  while.  Long  or  short,  every  one  of 
us  is  going  to  be  called  upon  to  show  the  utmost 
patience  and  forbearance — fortitude.  God  will- 
ing, we  will  pull  through  and  I  will  give  my 
life  willingly  to  that  end  at  any  moment.  If  I 

should  be  taken  from  you "    A  sob  from  the 

Shanghai  woman  interrupted  him.  "  No;  one 
never  knows  what  may  happen.  There  is 
Chang,  and  you  may  trust  him  as  I  expect  you 
to  trust  me — implicitly.  A  moment  ago  you  saw 
something "  His  glance  went  to  the  Rus- 
sian, and  Emily  understood.  "  That  was  neces- 
sary, but  I  don't  wish  you  to  understand  this 
to  be  an  apology — or  an  explanation.  I  think  I 
did  wrong  in  not  letting  that  man  drown — in 
not  killing  him."  Emily  turned  her  face  away 
with  a  shudder.  * '  You  may  think  of  me  as  you 
43 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

please.  It  is  immaterial,  but  obedience  I  will 
have  and  must  have  from  every  soul  here."  A 
harshness  as  of  a  steel  blade  meeting  a  steel 
blade  displaced  the  gentleness  in  his  voice. 
"  The  sea  is  very  treacherous — very  treacher- 
ous. One  must  be  in  order  to  fight  it.  That  is 
all." 

Glancing  up,  Emily  saw  Lavelle  gazing  out 
over  the  water  again,  seemingly  oblivious  of 
the  boat.  The  bearded  man  forward  groaned. 
He  sat  up  and  the  sight  of  his  bruised  and 
broken  nose — his  face  swollen  beyond  resem- 
blance to  what  it  had  been  only  a  little  while 
before — renewed  in  all  its  strength  her  feeling 
of  revulsion  against  Lavelle.  She  grew  sick  at 
the  thought  of  the  brutish  force  of  him  who 
could  maul  a  man  like  that  with  one  blow. 


49 


CHAPTER  vrn 

THAT  night  at  midnight,  when  Lavelle  re- 
lieved Chang  at  the  steering  oar,  the  Chinamam 
told  him  that  it  was  hopeless  to  go  as  they  were 
going. 

"  This  boat  no  can  do.  Go  loo'ard  all  time. 
All  same  like  crab — go  sideways." 

Lavelle  had  observed  this  early  in  the  after- 
noon when  the  wind  had  sprung  up  from  the 
northeast  and  he  had  laid  a  course  to  the  east- 
ward. Such  boats  as  this,  lapstreaked  and  air- 
tanked,  practically  keelless  and  without  center- 
board  or  leeboard,  were  never  built  for  sailing 
and  least  of  all  on  the  wind. 

a  See,"  said  Chang,  flashing  an  electric 
pocket  torch  which  had  been  found  among  the 
boat's  outfit.  "  Look  him  now,  master."  The 
light  was  on  the  boat  compass.  "  Make  Lira 
now  eas'  by  sou'.  One  time  turn  all  loun'. 
'Mother  time  eas 'sou 'eas' — sou 'eas'  by  eas'- 
fi'  slix  ploint  off  wind.  No  good!  All  same 
dam  sklare  lig  ship." 

Lavelle  ordered  Chang  to  turn  in  and  the 
serang  handed  him  the  Shanghai  woman's  tiny 
emerald-studded  watch — the  one  thing  of  value 
50 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

that  remained  of  all  her  years  of  trafficking. 
She  had  turned  it  over  to  Lavelle  to  keep  the 
boat's  time.  The  Chinaman  curled  up  obedi- 
ently under  the  lee  gunwale,  pausing  as  he  sank 
into  the  darkness  to  inquire  if  the  "  caplun's 
topside  "  still  hurt.  Lavelle  told  him  that  the 
pain  had  gone  out  of  his  head  completely  and 
Chang  grunted  in  satisfaction. 

In  the  first  fifteen  minutes  of  his  watch  La- 
velle realized  the  truth  of  all  that  Chang  had 
told  him.  It  was  impossible  to  keep  the  boat  on 
an  easterly  course.  The  leeway  she  made  in 
only  the  light  breeze  that  was  blowing  was  ap- 
palling. She  was  not  making  more  than  three 
knots  an  hour.  The  breeze  which  had  persisted 
out  of  the  north  since  the  afternoon  he  knew 
for  the  first  breath  of  the  trades — although  it 
was  a  degree  or  two  above  their  northern  limit. 
With  provisions  for  twenty  days  and  only  a 
week's  supply  of  water  he  had  to  admit  to  him- 
self that  he  was  courting  destruction  to  try  to 
make  the  chain  of  islands — Midway,  Oceana, 
Gardner,  and  Laysan — stretching  away  to  the 
northwest  of  the  Hawaiian  group. 

Of  a  sudden  something  which  he  had  strug- 
gled all  day  to  visualize  came  to  his  mind's  eye. 
He  saw  a  pilot  chart  of  the  region  as  vividly 
as  if  it  were  spread  before  him  on  a  lighted 

51 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

table.  It  was  here  that  an  offshoot  of  the  Japan 
Current  set  to  the  westward  at  from  twelve  to 
thirty  knots  a  day  I 

The  thought  straightened  him  with  a  start. 
To  the  westward  lay  two  thousand  miles  of 
empty,  unfrequented  sea  until  one  nearly 
fetched  the  coast.  To  the  northwest  twelve  hun- 
dred miles  at  the  least,  lay  the  lanes  of  the 
liners — a  bare  chance  there  of  salvation,  if  a 
ship  sighted  one.  But  with  the  trades  and  cur- 
rent against  such  a  helpless  craft,  there  was  but 
one  thing  to  do :  take  no  chances.  To  the  south- 
west, twelve  or  thirteen  hundred  miles  away, 
lay  the  Ratack  Chain  of  the  Marshall  group, 
with  the  Marianas  impinging  on  its  western 
axis.  Under  the  drive  of  the  trades,  sailing 
before  the  wind,  the  boat,  with  driving,  should 
make  between  one  hundred  and  one  hundred  and 
twenty  miles  a  day;  and  twelve  days  of  such 
sailing  meant  land  underfoot  and — life!  His 
heart  throbbed  at  the  thought.  It  meant  life 
for  her — his  gold  woman — and  suddenly  he  real- 
ized that  all  his  thoughts  were  of  Emily  Gran- 
ville. 

With  a  skillful  sweep  of  the  oar  he  brought 
the  boat  round  and  put  her  before  the  wind. 
By  the  flash  of  the  electric  torch  he  laid  the 
course  southwest.  The  craft  instantly  did 
52 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

better  and  surprised  him  into  speaking  aloud, 
as  boats  do  surprise  men : 

"  This  is  your  best  sailing  point,  old  girl." 

In  the  silence  that  followed  he  became  con- 
scious of  somebody  moving  in  the  boat.  There 
was  a  low  murmur  of  voices.  It  made  him  un- 
easy until  he  located  it  finally  in  the  space  be- 
tween the  second  and  third  thwarts  which  he 
had  assigned  to  the  women.  He  had  partitioned 
it  off  with  a  steamer  rug  which  Chang  had 
taken  away  from  Rowgowskii.  A  hand  pushed 
back  a  flap  of  the  rug  and  Emily  Granville 
crawled  out  and  stood  up  timidly. 

Lavelle  flashed  the  torch  in  the  bottom  of  the 
boat  and  she  came  toward  him  uncertainly.  He 
became  conscious  for  the  first  time  of  the  pov- 
erty of  her  dress  as  he  saw  her  ankles  gleaming 
in  the  light.  She  was  not  wearing  the  long  tan 
coat  now.  A  golfing  jacket  and  a  short  black 
skirt,  which  it  had  covered  during  the  day,  com- 
posed her  attire  as  she  revealed  herself  in  the 
torch's  gleam. 

"  Do  you  mind  if — if  I  come  out  here  with 
you?  "  she  whispered  timidly. 

"  Certainly  not,"  he  whispered  back,  moving 
further  aft  to  make  room  for  her  and  sure  that 
she  must  be  able  to  hear  the  pounding  throb 
of  his  pulse. 

53 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

"  I  have  been  awake  for  hours." 

"  You  should  make  an  effort — try  to  get  all 
the  sleep  possible.  It  brings  strength  and — for- 
getfulness,  too." 

"  Not  always,  but — I  came — I  thought  you 
should  know  that  Mrs.  Moore  seems  very  ill." 

11  There  is  something  I  can  do  for  her?  ' 

"  I  think — think  not."  There  was  a  note  of 
hesitancy  in  her  voice  and  Lavelle  caught  it. 

"  Is  there  nothing  you  can  do,  Miss  Gran- 
ville?  " 

"  She  is  burning  with  a  terrible  fever." 

"  Water?  Is  that  it?  "  he  whispered  very 
low. 

"  Yes,  but  she  told  me  I  was  not  to  ask.  She 
is  very — plucky." 

"  And  you  were  afraid  to  come  to  me? 
Afraid  I  would  refuse?  ' 

"  Yes,"  she  answered  slowly.  "  But  I  am 
here  and — and  I  did  not  ask.  I  don 't  know  why 
I  came." 

Without  another  word  Lavelle  flashed  the 
torch  on  a  breaker  at  his  feet.  At  a  nod  of  his 
head  she  slipped  down  from  the  seat  to  the 
bottom  of  the  boat.  He  handed  her  a  tin  cup 
from  the  air-tank  locker.  Somebody  stirred 
forward  and  he  snapped  out  the  light  until  they 
were  still.  The  spirit  of  conspiracy  made  her 
54 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

crouch  lower.  She  hardly  breathed  until  he 
turned  on  the  light  again. 

The  torch  made  her  glorious  head  glow 
vividly.  It  transformed  the  thick  braids  falling 
over  her  shoulders  and  across  her  bosom  into 
bands  of  filagreed  gold.  A  mist  of  pity  swept 
his  vision. 

"  You  take  a  drink;  you  are  thirsty,  too,"  he 
said,  bending  so  low  that  his  lips  nearly  touched 
her  head.  She  turned  her  face  up  to  him 
quickly  and  shook  her  head. 

"  It  wouldn't— be  fair." 

' '  I  will  make  it  fair, ' '  he  answered. 

Impulsively,  with  a  thirst  which  burned  her 
throat — a  thirst  such  as  she  never  dreamed  she 
would  know — she  drank.  It  was  only  a  sup  that 
she  took,  but  in  the  instant  she  wet  her  lips  she 
was  ashamed  of  what  this  man  might  think  of 
her.  She  started  up  quickly,  taking  the  hand 
he  held  out  to  her. 

"  You  have  not  done  wrong,"  he  whispered. 
She  shuddered  that  he  had  sensed  her  thought. 
4 '  I  will  straighten  this  out.  Say  to  Mrs.  Moore 
that  I  sent  the  water. ' ' 

Turning  to  go  forward,  Emily  paused  with  a 
start. 

"  See !  "  she  exclaimed.    "  What  is  that?  " 

She  pointed  to  where  a  light  moved  low  along 

55 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

the  dip  of  the  southern  horizon.  Lavelle  recog- 
nized a  steamer's  masthead  light  at  a  glance. 
In  that  instant  it  passed  out  of  sight. 

"  Only  a  shooting  star,"  he  answered,  for  he 
would  not  add  to  her  misery,  and  she  left  him 
alone  in  the  night,  undreaming  of  the  bitter 
thought  that  was  smiting  him. 

If  he  had  put  the  boat  on  her  present  course 
an  hour  sooner  he  undoubtedly  would  have 
crossed  that  vessel's  track. 


56 


CHAPTER  IX 

IT  was  not  to  sleep  that  Emily  returned  when 
she  carried  the  water  to  Elsie  of  Shanghai  and, 
crouching  in  the  cramped  space,  took  the  wom- 
an's scorching  head  in  her  lap.  Elsie  was  mur- 
muring in  a  semi-coma,  sometimes  in  English, 
but  more  often  in  Chinese.  Occidental  though 
she  was,  this  woman's  long,  hard  years  in  the 
gateways  of  the  Far  East  had  breathed  in  her 
the  Orient's  spirit  of  fatalism.  The  stoicism 
of  the  children  of  the  sunset  lands  was  hers; 
the  immobility  of  feature  which  marks  them  was 
sealed  in  her  striking,  irregular  features.  Her 
manner  of  speech  and  expression  were  theirs. 

"  I  wonder  if  they  will  burn  me  in  hell  this 
way,"  she  gasped  as  Emily  put  the  cup  to  her 
avid  lips. 

"  No,  no,  you  mustn't  have  such  thoughts," 
Emily  whispered. 

Elsie  was  in  pain.  The  difficulty  with  which 
she  breathed  told  that.  Yet  only  now  and  then 
did  a  hardly  audible  moan  escape  her  lips. 

* '  He  said  I  must  be  brave — that  I  was  brave 
— that  I  must  be  patient,"  and  Emily  Granville 
knew  that  this  strange  woman  was  thinking  of 

57 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

what  Lavelle  had  said  to  them  in  the  morning. 
"  Did  you  ask  him — the  captain — for  this  wa- 
ter I  "  she  asked  after  a  seemingly  very  long 
time. 

"  No,"  Emily  told  her  with  a  feeling  of  guilt. 
'  *  He  made  me  bring  it  to  you.  He  said  it  would 
be  all  right." 

1 '  God,  what  a  white  man — what  a  white  man ! 
Oh,  I  know  men,  my  dear  child,"  and  Emily 
imagined  that  a  sneer  was  upon  her  lips.  "  I 
know  them  as  the  Canton  money  lenders  know 
their  gold."  She  spoke  with  a  fierce  tenseness. 
"  I've  trafficked  in  them — traded  in  them — as 
they  trade  in  guns — and  opium  at  Macao." 
Her  breath  stopped  in  a  quick  gasp.  Emily 
pressed  another  sup  of  water  between  her  lips. 

"  Are  you  afraid  of  death,  my  dear?  "  Elsie 
whispered. 

"  I — I  don't  know—  But  you  mustn't 
think  these  terrible  thoughts,"  and  yet  as  she 
spoke  Emily  Granville  wondered  at  the  Calm- 
ness which  possessed  her.  A  different  person 
than  the  Emily  Granville  she  had  known  for 
twenty-four  years  seemed  to  be  speaking  and 
thinking  in  these  wild  and  strange  surround- 
ings. 

"  I  will  not  get  better — I  know,"  said  the 
Shanghai  woman  presently.  "  It  is  pneumonia 
58 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

again — the  women  of  the  lighted  houses  cannot 
stand  the  open."  She  sat  up  quickly,  clutching 
at  her  breasts.  "  I  am  like  fire — and  lead — in 
here.  Oh,  God,  it  is  so  hard  to  breathe!  " 
"  Can't  I  think  of  something  to  do  for  you?  ' 
"  Only  hold  me — just  this  way,"  and  she  sank 
in  Emily's  lap  again.  "  I  saw  the  way  you 
held  him.  You  are — very  kind.  You  were  made 
for — for  the  mother  of  men — strong  men — like 
my — my  captain  out  there.  No;  do  not  draw 
away  from  me.  You  would  trust  him  if  you 
could  have  seen  him — him  and  that  Chang — 
that  night  in  Shanghai.  There  was  a  place  for 
everybody — everybody — but  the  women — the 
toys  from  behind  the  green  jalousies.  Ask 
Chang — he — he  will  tell  you.  They  picked  us 
out — of  the  dark  river.  It's  very  dark  now, 

isn't  it?    Very  dark "    Her  whisper  trailed 

away  in  a  low  moan.  Emily  tried  to  make  her 
take  a  drink  of  water,  but  she  refused  it.  "  Will 
you  say,  *  Our — Our  Father  '  " — and  Emily  re- 
peated the  Lord's  Prayer  very  slowly  and 
sensed  that  the  other  woman 's  lips  were  follow- 
ing the  words  dumbly.  ' '  Ask  him — my  captain 
— please  if  he — will  not  speak  to  me,"  Elsie 
murmured  after  a  long  silence. 

Emily  heard  a  movement  aft  and,  pushing 
back  the  flap  of  the  rug,  saw  Chang  relieving 

59 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

Lavelle  at  the  helm.  The  dawn  was  just  pinking 
the  eastern  sky. 

Lavelle  saw  Emily's  hand  beckoning  and  he 
crept  forward.  Elsie  held  out  a  hand  to  him 
and  he  took  it.  Her  pulse  flashed  to  him  a  his- 
tory of  what  she  was  suffering.  A  glance  at 
her  face  revealed  to  him  the  touch  of  death 
upon  it. 

"  I'm  going  away — going  home,"  Elsie  whis- 
pered. *  *  Will  you  hold—  The  dawn !  ' ' 

Lavelle  understood  her  glance  upward  and 
pushed  away  the  rug.  He  got  behind  her  and 
lifted  her  into  a  sitting  posture.  She  still  clung 
to  his  hand. 

"  Isn't  it  wonderful?  "  she  asked,  looking  to- 
ward Emily  and  then  up  into  Lavelle 's  face. 
He  nodded.  "  I  am  not  afraid,  captain.  I've 
learned — last  night  I  learned — from  you — to  die 
unafraid. ' ' 

A  marvelous  smile  lighted  her  face.  The 
marks  of  her  hard  years  sped  from  it  forever 
in  the  glow  of  the  new  day  which  suffused  the 
sea  and  the  sky  with  a  spirit  of  the  infinite 
mystery  this  waif  of  life  was  on  the  threshold 
of  solving. 

"  Our  Father,  who "  she  whispered. 

Then,  starting  suddenly  from  Lavelle 's  clasp 
she  put  out  her  hands  to  the  dawn.  "  Mother 
GO 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

—mother  o'  mine,"  she  called  ecstatically. 
"  Moth " 

Elsie  of  Shanghai  fell  back  into  Lavelle's 
arms,  with  a  sigh  of  peace  parting  her  lips  in 
a  smile. 

Emily  looked  up  at  Lavelle  and,  as  he  turned 
away  quickly,  the  pent-up  misery  and  loneliness 
in  her  gave  vent  in  a  flood  of  tears.  The  sobs 
which  she  could  not  choke  back  aroused  the 
sleepers  forward.  Death  had  come  and  a  soul 
had  sped  so  quietly  that  it  had  not  disturbed 
their  slumbers. 

Starting  to  his  knees,  Rowgowskii  beheld  La- 
velle just  laying  the  burden  out  of  his  arms 
along  the  fore-and-aft  seat  near  Chang.  The 
helmsman  might  have  been  an  image.  The 
Chinese  sailors  arising  from  the  bottom  of  the 
boat  were  seized  immediately  by  the  awe  of  the 
mystery  that  had  so  swiftly  come  among  them. 
They  huddled  together  on  their  haunches,  mut- 
tering over  some  talisman  held  in  common. 

Emily  followed  Lavelle  and  sat  at  the  feet 
of  the  shell  of  clay,  smoothing  down  the  bedrag- 
gled dress  over  the  delicate  ankles  and  feet. 

"  I — you  understand — sometimes  we  can't 

find  words "  he  said  to  her  gently,  and  she 

nodded  in  understanding.  Nothing  he  could 
have  said  would  have  conveyed  more  to  her. 

61 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

The  gentleness,  the  kindness,  the  comprehension 
of  this  man  were  battering  a  breach  in  the  bar- 
riers of  her  terror  and  hatred  of  him.  Falling 
on  her  knees  beside  Elsie's  body  she  prayed 
for  strength  and  fortitude  and  forbearance. 

Emily  started  up  amid  a  silence  broken  only 
by  the  breeze  and  the  boat  snoring  away  before 
it.  Lavelle  was  sitting  opposite,  his  gaze  upon 
her.  She  sensed  in  the  faces  of  Chang  and  the 
others  a  new  mystery  of  expectancy.  Lavelle 
stood  up  and  handed  her  into  his  seat. 

One  of  the  Chinamen  crawled  aft  and  passed 
Lavelle  a  piece  of  rope  and  an  iron  block  which 
had  been  left  in  the  bow  of  the  boat  when  Chang 
cut  the  fall  away.  Lavelle  turned  so  that  what 
he  did  with  these  things  was  hidden  from 
Emily's  sight,  but  she  understood.  As  he  faced 
her  again  she  saw  that  the  block  was  fastened 
to  Shanghai  Elsie's  ankles,  although  he  had 
endeavored  to  hide  it  beneath  the  silken  gown. 

"  Do  you  know — would  you  wish  to  say  a 
prayer,  Miss  Granville?  "  he  asked. 

Emily  stood  up  and  met  his  gaze.  He  was 
asking  her  to  do  something;  he  expected  some- 
thing of  her  and  she  was  helpless. 

"  I  know  only  the  simple  prayers  of  the  sea," 
Lavelle  added.     With  that  Emily  found  her 
voice. 
62 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

'  *  She — she  would  want  you  to  say  those — and 

so  would  I — if "  Her  eyes  closed,  and  as 

from  a  great  distance  she  heard  him  intoning 
the  Lord's  prayer.  She  realized  that  never  be- 
fore had  she  known  its  full  meaning.  There 
came  a  pause  and  she  looked  up.  The  boat  was 
fluttering  into  the  wind.  The  Chinamen,  save 
Chang,  who  had  to  stand  to  the  helm,  and  Eow- 
gowskii,  were  on  their  knees. 

Lavelle  stood  with  Elsie  in  his  outstretched! 
arms,  facing  an  arc  in  the  sky  where  a  blush 
of  the  dawn  still  lingered.  The  breeze  seemed 
to  pause.  As  Chang  checked  the  boat's  way  La- 
velle bent  over  and  laid  the  burden  in  his  arms 
upon  the  sea.  So  might  a  mother  have  put 
down  a  child  to  rest. 

"  '  "We  therefore  commit  her  body  to  the 
deep,'  "  he  said  very  distinctly,  "  '  to  be  turned 
into  corruption,  looking  for  the  resurrection  of 
this  body,  when  the  sea  shall  give  up  her 
dead.'  " 

His  gaze  lingered  overside  for  a  moment  and 
then  he  added: 

"  It's  a  clean  grave,  little  woman." 

Turning  quickly  away  from  the  sea  he  seemed 
another  man. 

11  Sail  on  1  "he  snapped  at  the  helmsman. 


63 


CHAPTER  X 

EMILY  would  not  eat  until  at  noon  tliat  day 
Lavelle  commanded  her  to  do  so.  Watching 
him,  she  saw  that  he  ate  hardly  as  much  as  the 
little  that  passed  her  lips.  She  did  not  see  him 
drink  at  all.  Neither  had  he  drunk  at  the  morn- 
ing meal.  As  she  recalled  this  his  words  as  he 
had  given  her  the  water  in  the  night  came  back : 
"  I  will  straighten  it  out."  This  was  the  way 
he  was  "  straightening  it  out."  The  thought 
brought  tears  to  her  eyes  and  made  her 
ashamed. 

The  sense  of  loneliness  that  was  borne  of 
Elsie's  passing  had  grown  upon  her  with  the 
hours.  She  was  yearning  for  sympathy  and  she 
would  have  turned  to  Lavelle,  but  she  sensed 
that  somehow  a  new  barrier  had  arisen  between 
them — a  wall  not  of  her  building,  but  of  his. 
When  he  spoke  to  her  his  voice  was  very  gentle, 
but  neither  his  manner  nor  his  speech  invited 
her  to  say  anything. 

As  Lavelle  lay  down  at  Chang's  feet,  shortly 
after  luncheon,  to  take  the  sleep  which  he  must 
have  to  meet  the  night,  Emily  remarked  in  a 
64 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

tone  of  anxiety  that  he  had  removed  the  ban- 
dage from  his  head. 

"  Yes,"  he  answered  simply.  "  It  is  all  right. 
The  clean  salt  air  is  a  good  physician.  The  sea 
hurts,  but  it  also  heals — if  one  will  only  let  it." 

His  face  might  have  been  a  mask.  The  gray 
eyes  closed  wearily  as  he  spoke  and  he  buried  his 
face  in  his  arm  and  away  from  the  sun's  glare. 

The  years  had  taught  Paul  Lavelle  how  to 
suffer  alone.  He  was  suffering  now.  When  he 
looked  up  from  Elsie's  dead  face  that  morning 
into  the  gold  woman 's  he  thought  he  saw  some- 
thing in  her  eyes  to  make  him  pause.  He  had 
surprised  the  glance  again,  he  imagined,  as  he 
turned  round  from  the  burial.  He  knew  life 
too  well  not  to  understand  whither  a  woman's 
sympathy  might  carry  her. 

Emily,  looking  down  at  the  long,  lithe  body 
stretched  in  the  bottom  of  the  boat,  kept  re- 
peating to  herself:  "  The  sea  hurts,  but  it  also 
heals."  She  sought  a  meaning  in  the  words 
which  she  felt  she  had  missed. 

Eowgowskii,  drawing  near,  interrupted  her 
thoughts  with  a  pleasant  salutation  in  French. 
This  big  dark  man  had  a  finish  and  poise  fa- 
miliar to  her  world  and  he  could  talk  with  a 
brilliance  which  made  it  possible  for  her  to 
forget  momentarily  the  unpleasant  familiarity 

65 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

of  his  black  eyes,  and  the  pendulous  underlip 
which  signaled  the  sensuous  animal  in  him. 
During  the  morning  he  had  made  an  effort  to 
be  sincerely  comforting  and  reassuring  and  she 
was  thankful  to  him.  After  a  few  idle  words 
Rowgowskii's  gaze  wandered  down  to  Lavelle. 

"  He  feels  badly  over  the  death  of  that 
woman?  "  he  asked,  looking  up  at  her  with  a 
strange  directness.  Emily  answered  with  a  nod 
of  acquiescence.  A  smile  passed  over  his  face. 
.With  a  significant  shrug,  he  added:  "  I  under- 
stood aboard  the  ship — the  Cambodia — that 
they  were — tres  intimes."  He  searched  the  face 
of  the  golden-haired  woman  to  see  if  his  dart 
had  found  a  mark.  But  he  mistook  Emily  Gran- 
ville.  She  was  not  one  who  could  be  read  as 
one  ran.  She  was  silent. 

"  Men  of  his  kind — well,  they  are  a  strange, 
strange  lot,"  he  went  on. 

"  I  have  no  desire  to  discuss  Mr.  Lavelle," 
said  Emily. 

' '  Of  course  not.  Pardon  me,  Miss  Granville. 
I  was  told  the  painful  story  aboard  the  ship.  I 
understand  your  feelings.  You  will  pardon  me, 
I  hope.  It  is  because  of  what  this  man  is  that 
I  fear  for  you.  These  Chinamen  would  do  mur- 
der at  his  word.  He  is  armed;  I  am  helpless, 
but  I  will  find  a  way." 
66 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

Rowgowskii  leaned  nearer  and  whispered: 

' '  We  should  be  sailing  in  the  opposite  direc- 
tion. Did  you  know  that,  Miss  Granville? 
Over  to  the  east  we  should  be  going." 

Emily  met  his  gaze  now,  with  a  pallor  be- 
ginning to  overspread  her  face. 

"  But  do  you  think  he  does  not  know!  "  she 
asked,  and  her  voice  trembled. 

"  If  you  will  remember  it  was  he — this  man 
• — who  changed  the  course  of  the  Yakutat,"  an- 
swered Eowgowskii.  "  I  have  been  thinking 
that  you  might  induce  him  to  change — to  do 
right." 

Consternation  seized  her  at  the  mention  of 
the  Yakutat.  It  bore  quick  doubt  in  her  heart ; 
then  fear.  Her  new  faith  was  torn  from  its 
moorings.  Her  mind  lost  all  sense  of  its  bear- 
ings. 

"  Why  have  you  not  spoken  to  him?  "  she 
asked. 

"  I  mentioned  it  this  morning.  He  ignored 
me.  That  Chinaman  there  '  —he  indicated 
Chang  with  a  glance — "  that  beast  there — told 
me  that  I  could  walk  ashore  if  I  did  not  like 
the  way  things  were  done  here." 

Neither  had  observed  Chang  for  some  time, 
but  now  Emily  looked  up  at  him  and  was 
startled  by  the  steadiness  with  which  his  gaze 

67 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

was  fixed  dead  ahead.  He  stood  tense  like  a 
hunting  dog  at  a  point,  his  nostrils  twitching 
nervously.  Rowgowskii  followed  the  direction 
of  the  giant's  gaze,  but  could  see  nothing. 
Emily  started  to  speak  to  Chang,  but  her  lips 
opened  only  to  gasp. 

* '  Land  ho !  "  cried  Chang. 

"  Where  away?  "  answered  Lavelle,  leaping 
to  his  feet. 

"  Two  points — starboard  bow,  master,"  and 
Chang  pointed  one  of  his  powerful  and  sinewy 
arms  straight  ahead. 

Emily,  Rowgowskii,  and  the  coolie  sailors 
looked  eagerly  in  the  direction  in  which  he 
pointed,  but  could  see  nothing.  They  turned 
toward  Lavelle,  who,  with  his  hands  shading 
his  eyes,  was  driving  his  gaze  toward  the  south- 
west. The  tensity  of  the  moment  was  terrific. 
It  impinged  upon  him  in  every  glance.  He  was 
the  commander;  his  was  the  task  to  bring  this 
boat  to  land;  his  was  the  responsibility.  They 
saw  his  lips  move  as  if  he  counted  something. 
As  he  finished  he  dropped  his  hands. 

"It  is  land,"  he  said,  speaking  directly  to 
Emily,  and  his  voice  trembled.  "  We  should 
be  up  with  it  before  sunset,  Miss  Granville. 
God  grant  it  means  your  succor — your  deliver- 
ance." 
68 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

' '  What  land  is  it  ?  "  she  asked  eagerly. 

"  I  don't  know.    It  puzzles  me." 

*  *  I  saw  you  counting — what  was  that  T  ' ' 

"  Trees — I  was  able  to  make  out  three." 
Turning  to  Chang  he  said : '  *  Haul  her  up  until 
you  bring  the  land  two  points  off  the  lee  bow 
and  then  let  her  go." 

Emily  noted  that  Lavelle's  voice  rang  with 
genuine  happiness. 

With  the  enthusiasm  of  a  boy  Lavelle  next 
ordered  a  drink  of  water  for  all  hands  in  cele- 
bration of  Chang's  discovery.  Never  was  a 
health  in  rare  wine  drunk  with  finer  apprecia- 
tion than  the  simple  tepid  draught  which  these 
waifs  quaffed  from  a  tin  cup. 

Lavelle  took  the  helm  himself  and  a  half-hour 
before  sundown  fetched  a  low-lying  island 
which  appeared  to  be  between  three-quarters  of 
a  mile  and  a  mile  long  from  north  to  south  and 
about  half  a  mile  broad.  It  had  a  rise  in  its 
center  like  a  camel's  hump.  The  northern  side 
of  this  and  the  lower  land  abutting  upon  it  were 
sprinkled  sparsely  with  cocoanut  palms.  There 
was  not  a  visible  sign  of  life. 

Emily,  standing  alongside  of  Lavelle  as  they 
came  within  sound  of  the  sea  breaking  against 
the  island's  weather  shore,  saw  the  happiness 
which  had  come  into  the  commander's  eyes  sud- 

69 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

denly  depart.  It  was  replaced  by  an  intense 
seriousness.  She  could  not  help  asking  what 
was  the  matter. 

"  Nothing,"  said  he  simply,  but  she  felt  that 
he  was  withholding  something  from  her. 

Lavelle  was  reading  signs  which  made  him 
pause.  First  he  had  noticed  the  absence  of  any 
reefs — an  invariable  and  natural  formation  of 
islands  in  that  region  of  the  world.  The  shore 
rose  abruptly  and  sheer  from  the  sea.  The  land 
was  brown  and  raw-looking. 

The  wind  was  heightening,  and  this  fact,  in 
combination  with  the  swift  approach  of  dark- 
ness and  the  unweatherly  qualities  of  the  boat, 
determined  him  to  abandon  a  momentary  im- 
pulse to  seek  the  lee  side  of  the  island. 

Just  to  the  southward  of  the  hump  or  camel's 
back  Chang  sighted  what  seemed  to  be  a  beach. 
With  the  coolies  and  Eowgowskii  at  the  oars 
Lavelle  laid  the  boat  toward  this  point,  bow  on, 
taking  the  precaution  to  drag  the  sea  anchor 
astern  so  as  to  prevent  her  from  broaching  to 
in  the  heavy  sea  that  was  making. 

Chang,  with  the  painter  in  his  hand,  leaped 
ashore  as  the  boat  grounded.  One  of  the  coolies 
followed  him.  He  heaved  on  the  painter  with 
Chang  and  then  ran  back  toward  the  boat  to 
keep  her  from  slewing  round.  Lavelle  saw  him 
70 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

reach  the  side  of  the  boat.  The  next  instant 
he  had  disappeared — straight  down  in  the 
twinkling  of  an  eye. 

Everybody  in  the  boat  looked  on  with  dumb- 
ness. Not  even  Emily  cried  out.  They  sat  in. 
their  places  appalled. 

Lavelle  took  a  running  leap  from  the  bo^r  of 
the  boat  and  landed  beside  the  laboring  Chang. 
With  their  combined  strength  they  pulled  the 
craft  safely  clear  of  the  water.  Then,  he  ran 
back  and,  before  he  would  permit  the  others  to 
leave  the  boat,  handed  Emily  ashore. 

As  Lavelle  released  the  precious  weight  he 
felt  the  ground  under  him  wobble.  Emily  stag- 
gered where  she  stood  and  reeled  against  him. 

"  I  have  forgotten  how  to  walk  on  land,"  she 
said  in  innocent  embarrassment  and  with  an 
attempt  at  a  smile. 

Lavelle  made  no  answer.  His  worst  fears 
were  true.  They  had  landed  on  a  floating  island. 
Any  moment  might  see  it  engulfed. 


71 


CHAPTER  XI 

LAVELLE  caught  Emily  by  the  arm  as  the 
island's  heaving  reeled  her  against  him  and  held 
her.  The  tense,  startled  expression  which  she 
saw  in  his  face  drove  the  faint  smile  of  embar- 
rassment from  hers.  It  frightened  her. 

She  followed  his  glance,  which  was  sweeping 
their  surroundings.  They  were  standing  in 
what  had  evidently  been  the  bed  or  course  of 
a  creek  or  large  brook.  It  gullied  its  way  clear 
across  the  island  from  east  to  west,  following 
the  base  line  of  the  hill. 

"  What  is  it?  "  Emily  asked  in  dismay. 
"  Something  is  wrong,  captain." 

Before  Lavelle  could  form  an  answer  the 
island  gave  another  heave.  The  shell  of  earth 
rippled  as  if  it  had  been  so  much  water. 

With  a  cry  of  terror  and  warning  Rowgowskii 
sprang  away  from  the  boat's  side  and  went 
scrambling  up  the  hill.  The  two  coolies,  still 
a-tremble  with  the  fear  which  the  sudden  and 
mysterious  death  of  their  mate  a  moment  before 
kad  put  in  them,  followed  him  shrieking. 

Chang  leaped  to  Lavelle 's  side,  the  spot  where 
72 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

he  had  been  standing  filling  with  water  as  his 
feet  left  it. 

"  Lun,  master!  I/on,  lady!"  shouted  the 
giant. 

1 '  Come !  ' '  said  Emily  to  Lavelle,  starting  to- 
ward the  hill.  She  took  but  a  step.  A  sharp 
cry  of  anguish,  which  she  tried  hard  to  suppress, 
escaped  from  her.  Her  limbs  refused  to  carry 
her.  They  seemed  to  be  breaking  with  the  pain 
born  of  the  cramped  life  in  the  boat. 

With  a  murmured  word  of  understanding  La- 
velle snatched  her  into  his  arms  and  carried  her 
halfway  up  the  hillside.  Chang  pushed  him  as 
he  went.  When  he  put  her  down  in  a  mat  of 
grass  and  taro  plant  tops  she  still  clung  to  his 
hand  as  a  child  might  have  done. 

On  this  higher  ground  the  movement  of  the 
island  was  not  less  terrifying. 

"  Was — is  it  an  earthquake!  "  Emily  whis- 
pered in  awe. 

Lavelle  shook  his  head.  His  gaze  went 
searching  up  to  windward  and  then  darted 
across  the  island  to  leeward  where  the  sun  was 
tobogganing  down  a  bright  yellow  sky — such  a 
sky  as  invariably  presages  wind.  He  turned  to 
windward  again. 

For  an  instant  despair  overwhelmed  him. 
This  islet  was  but  a  bit  of  waif  land — the  bait 

73 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

of  a  cruel  trap  which  the  sea  had  set  for  him. 
Even  as  he  watched  it  the  surf  piled  higher  and 
higher  against  the  sheer  weather  shore.  This 
was  the  fanged  jaw  of  the  trap;  and  it  was 
closing.  The  swiftly  rising  wind  which  whipped 
his  face  seemed  to  chuckle  in  glee. 

To  drive  the  heavy  boat  through  that  surf 
and  back  to  sea  was  a  task  which  seemed  to 
him  to  be  beyond  the  force  at  his  command. 
Nor  could  that  crew  get  it  across  the  island  to 
make  a  launching  from  the  lee  side. 

Despair  enters  the  breasts  of  strong  men  only 
to  refuel  their  fires  of  determination.  So  it 
was  with  Paul  Lavelle.  Emily  saw  the  gloom 
pass  from  his  face.  A  conquering  light  of  reso- 
lution succeeded  it.  His  jaw  set  again  in  its 
familiar  line  of  purpose.  Thus  she  had  beheld 
him  on  the  deck  of  the  doomed  Cambodia.  Thus 
he  had  looked  as  he  had  come  to  her  that  night. 

"  We  must  put  to  sea  again,"  said  he,  facing 
her  quickly  and  in  his  tenseness  pressing  the 
hand  with  which  she  was  clinging  to  him.  He 
read  her  apprehension.  "  Morning  may  see 
this  bit  of  earth  mixed  with  the  ocean.  It  is 
but  a  piece  of  waif  land — a  thing  without  an 
anchorage — something  torn  from  its  mother 
mass  by  the  ocean  in  anger.  For  us  it  is  a  trap 
— one  of  the  sea's  countless  treacheries."  He 
74 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

glanced  over  his  shoulder  at  the  surf.  "  There 
is  no  time  to  lose,"  he  added. 

Emily  met  this  revelation  of  new  peril  so 
calmly  that  Lavelle  paused  in  wonderment  as 
he  swung  away  from  her. 

"  Can't  I — do  something  to — help  you?  "  she 
asked.  She  might  have  been  craving  a  boon, 

' '  Just  hold  to  your  faith.  We  '11  win  through 
if  you  keep  that,  won " 

The  wind  snapped  his  words  off  there.  She 
did  not  know  that  he  had  hailed  her  as  *  *  wonder 
woman."  Yet  she  glowed  at  the  glance  of  frank 
admiration  which  had  accompanied  his  words. 

Lavelle  called  Chang.  The  giant  started  up 
from  his  haunches  a  few  feet  away,  where  he 
had  been  crouching  and  listening  with  eager 
ear  to  every  word  which  had  fallen  from  his 
master's  lips. 

"  Him  clay-zee  islan',  master!  No  good!  " 
avowed  Chang. 

"  To  sea!  "  was  Lavelle 's  answer.  He  drove 
his  purpose  into  the  serang  with  those  two 
words  and  a  gesture.  The  giant  hesitated  so 
long  as  it  took  to  look  from  Lavelle  to  the  surf 
and  back  again.  There,  was  doubt  in  his  eyes. 

"  Jump!  Night  soon!  "  cried  Lavelle.  The 
command  electrified  the  serang. 

Chang  faced  up  the  hill,  beckoning  and  call- 

75 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

ing  Rowgowskii  and  the  coolies  to  descend. 
They  were  perched  on  its  crest  like  banderlog 
hypnotized  by  fear.  They  did  not  move. 

"  Come  down  out  of  that!  "  yelled  Lavelle  in 
anger  at  the  white  man  and  instantly  repeating 
the  command  to  the  coolies  in  their  own  tougue. 

11  It  is  unsafe!  I  will  stay  here!  "  Row- 
gowskii cried  back. 

The  coolies,  chattering  to  each  other,  settled 
again  on  their  haunches  from  which  they  had 
half  started.  They  were  taking  their  cue  from 
the  black-bearded  white  man  beside  them.  They 
would  not  trust  themselves  to  the  earth  below 
which  trembled  and  swallowed  things  like  the 
sea. 

"Bring  'em  down,  Chang!"  snapped  La- 
velle. 

The  giant  sprang  up  the  hill  at  the  order, 
hurling  at  the  coolies  a  curse  which  consigned 
forty  generations  of  their  ancestors  to  an  addi- 
tional century  of  grilling  in  the  fires  of  eternity. 
It  started  them,  but  Eowgowskii  did  not  move. 
Then,  out  of  Chang's  belt  flashed  a  long  knife. 
He  raised  it  to  hurl  at  the  white  man. 

With  uplifted  hands  and  crying  that  he  would 
obey,  Rowgowskii  stood  up.  Chang  lowered  the 
knife  and  paused  in  his  ascent.  The  leader  of 
the  mutineers  motioned  to  the  coolies  to  precede 
76 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

him.  They  clambered  along  the  rocks,  darting 
glances  over  their  shoulders  as  if  measuring  to 
descend  as  far  from  the  reach  of  Chang  as  pos- 
sible. 

Whether  it  was  Eowgowskii  or  one  of  the 
coolies  who  did  it  neither  Emily,  Chang,  nor 
Lavelle,  watching  from  below,  could  tell,  but  a 
large  round  boulder  was  dislodged  by  the  feet 
of  one  of  the  three.  It  crashed  down  the  hill- 
side with  the  ricochet  of  a  spending  shell, 
missed  Emily  by  a  hair's-breadth,  and  plunged 
through  the  side  of  the  boat. 


TT 


CHAPTER  XII 

A  MOMENT  of  awful  silence  followed  the  de- 
structive work  of  the  boulder.  Even  the  wind 
seemed  to  pause  in  its  flight  and  the  sea  in 
its  surging  to  behold  what  man  would  do  in  the 
face  of  this  disaster. 

Eowgowskii  and  the  two  coolies  lay  in  a  heap 
on  a  mass  of  loosened- earth  on  which  they  had 
been  swept  down  the  hill  in  the  wake  of  the 
rock.  Emily  had  risen  to  her  feet  where  La- 
velle  had  left  her  seated.  Her  gaze  was  fixed 
on  him.  He  stood  with  his  back  to  her  and 
facing  the  boat.  Chang  stood  to  the  eastward 
of  her,  motionless.  His  gaze,  too,  was  fixed  on 
the  master. 

Lavelle  was  the  first  to  move.  A  stride  car- 
ried him  to  the  boat.  A  glance  revealed  to  him 
a  hole  in  the  starboard  bilge  through  which  he 
might  have  crawled  without  difficulty,  big  man 
though  he  was.  Four  of  the  ribs  were  smashed. 
The  keel  was  shattered  for  half  its  length.  Any 
but  the  stoutest  heart  must  have  admitted  the 
craft  to  be  an  irreparable,  hopeless  wreck. 

With  a  weird  cry  of  insensate  rage  Chang, 
who  had  run  to  Lavelle 's  side,  turned  away  to- 
78 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

ward  Kowgowskii  and  the  coolies.  No  one  who 
saw  him  and  the  manner  in  which  he  carried 
his  long  knife  could  have  doubted  but  that  the 
serang  meant  to  visit  instant  death  upon  the 
mutineers.  His  gigantic  form  trembled  with  the 
passionate  intention  of  the  slayer.  Rowgowskii 
and  the  coolies  stood  in  a  paralysis  of  fear. 

A  word  from  Lavelle  stopped  the  serang. 

* '  More  better  kill !  Now !  ' '  cried  the  giant 
to  his  master  and  with  a  characterization  of  the 
mutineers  that  was  blood-chilling  in  its 
anathema. 

"  Give  me  that  knife,"  ordered  Lavelle 
quietly.  Meeting  his  gaze  and  holding  it  for  a 
moment  Chang  thrust  the  blade  into  Lavelle 's 
hand.  He  was  conquered,  but  the  glow  of  an 
heroic  splendor  was  upon  him. 

"  Kill  me — kill  Chang,  your  servant,  master." 

There  was  a  bare  note  of  defiance  in  the 
Chinaman's  voice.  He  dropped  his  hands  at 
his  sides  in  token  of  submission  and  bent  his 
head  for  the  blow  he  invited. 

' '  I  will  kill  when  I  choose  to  kill.  Go.  Clear 
out  this  boat,"  said  Lavelle. 

"  You  are  master,"  answered  the  serang,  and 
he  turned  to  summon  the  mutineers. 

Bowgowskii  and  the  coolies  under  Chang's 
driving  began  a  rapid  transportation  of  all  of 

79 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

the  boat's  provisions  and  equipment  to  a  point 
halfway  up  the  hillside  indicated  by  Lavelle. 
The  master  knew  that  this  was  no  time  for  pun- 
ishment. He  must  have  every  ounce  of  strength 
he  could  command. 

Straightening  up  from  a  contemplation  of  the 
hole  in  the  boat,  his  brain  busy  with  plans  of 
repair,  he  looked  toward  the  sea. 

"I'm  not  beaten  unless  you  drown  me  in  the 
next  three  hours,"  he  flung  in  a  mutter  at  the 
growling  deep. 

Turning  away,  he  found  Emily  Granville  be- 
side him.  She  was  looking  up  at  him  through 
a  mist  of  tears.  Her  own  misery  of  body  and 
soul  had  been  swept  away  in  the  instant  she 
had  heard  the  boulder  go  crunching  through  the 
boat's  thin  skin.  She  could  think  only  of  what 
this  cruel  stab  of  fate  must  mean  to  the  man 
captaining  the  handful  of  life  which  he  had  been 
chosen  to  save.  Her  capacity  to  think  of  an- 
other and  not  of  herself  in  this  common  crisis 
was  a  sign  of  growth  which  would  have  pleased 
her  if  it  had  been  possible  to  pause  in  self- 
analysis. 

And  this  man,  meeting  her  pitying  eyes, 
smiled  at  her  quizzically !  If  he  had  confronted 
her  with  a  hopeless  curse  she  would  not  have 
been  surprised.  Now  she  could  but  gasp  in 
80 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

amazement.  The  comforting  words  which  she 
had  planned  to  speak  would  not  lend  themselves 
to  utterance.  In  this  second  she  realized 
that  thus  would  he  meet  death — undaunted; 
smiling. 

"  Fate  is  treating  you — very  unkindly,  Miss 
Granville,"  said  he.  He  spoke  in  his  usual  low 
tone. 

"  Us,"  she  corrected  him,  resenting,  as  she 
had  come  to  do  all  that  day,  his  insistence  upon 
classifying  her  apart. 

' '  Us,  then, ' '  he  answered  with  a  nod. 

"  Does  this  mean Is  this  the  end!  "  she 

asked  calmly,  and  she  drew  his  eyes  to  the  hole 
in  the  boat.  His  answer  was  a  question. 

"  Do  you  feel  that  it  is  the  end?  " 

"  No,"  the  woman  answered,  searching  his 
face  and  reading  there  a  message  of  infinite 
faith. 

Yet  even  as  she  spoke  the  island  was  a-quiver 
under  the  increasing  force  of  the  sea's  assaults. 
Nor  had  it  been  still  at  any  time  since  they  had 
put  foot  on  it. 

"  No  man  may  tell  the  life  of  a  floating 
island,"  Lavelle  explained.  "  In  weather  like 
this  it  is  very — very  short " 

"  Can  you  repair  this  boat?  Do  you  intend 
to  mend  this  hole?  " 

81 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

Her  eyes  opened  in  wonderment,  for  he 
nodded  affirmatively. 

"  Kemember  what  Browning  said:  '  To  dry 
one's  eyes  and  laugh  at  a  fall.  And,  baffled,  get 
up  and  begin  again ' 

"All  clear,  master!"  called. Chang,  inter- 
rupting Lavelle  and  leaping  out  of  the  boat  with 
the  mast  and  oars  in  his  arms. 

Lavelle  summoned  all  hands.  They  heaved 
the  boat  over  on  its  undamaged  side.  With  a 
strength  which  peril  had  trebled,  they  dragged 
it  out  of  the  miry,  jelly-like  ground  on  which 
it  lay  and  brought  it  to  a  ledge  on  the  hill. 
Man's  work  though  it  was,  Emily  Granville 
gave  her  hands  to  it,  with  a  strange  new  will, 
heaving  and  pulling  beside  Lavelle  until  he 
called  that  the  task  was  done.  And  the  while 
she  kept  repeating  to  herself,  "  '  To  dry  one's 
eyes  and  laugh  at  a  fall.  And,  baffled,  get  up 
and  begin  again.'  " 

Just  as  the  boat  was  laid  on  the  ledge  the  sun 
dropped  behind  the  horizon. 

Eowgowskii  had  seen  some  wood  while  he  and 
the  coolies  had  been  on  the  hilltop.  Of  his  own 
volition  he  climbed  after  it  and  brought  down 
sufficient  to  make  a  fire.  There  was  driftwood 
also  in  the  bed  of  the  creek  or  gully  and  Chang 
sent  the  coolies  to  gather  it. 
82 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

As  the  fire  sprang  up  Lavelle  worked  the 
faster  where  he  ripped  out  the  boat's  after 
air  tank.  With  its  metal  he  planned  to  cover 
the  hole. 

No  thought  of  food  nor  drink  had  he,  though 
he  ordered  Chang  to  serve  rations  to  the  rest. 
Emily  carried  a  cracker  and  a  cup  of  water  to 
him,  but  he  would  not  pause. 

"  Give  me  plenty  of  light;  that's  all,"  he  an- 
swered her  urging.  t '  Light  to  work  by ' ' 

A  racking  shudder  passed  through  the  island. 
It  flung  Emily  headlong.  The  earth  on  which 
Lavelle  knelt  slid  from  under  him.  The  island's 
middle,  following  the  base  line  of  the  hill,  rose 
like  a  monster  cat  arching  its  spine  and  hurled 
him  backward,  stunned,  breathless,  helpless. 

There  was  a  breath-long  silence.  It  ended 
with  a  chorus  of  wild  cries.  Then,  the  great 
earth  mass  fell  with  a  thunderous  crash,  rend- 
ing the  island  in  twain.  The  triumphant  sea 
leaped  out  of  the  breach  it  had  made  and  swept 
the  crumbling  shore  with  a  mighty  wave. 


83 


CHAPTER  XIH 

AWAKENING  to  a  bewildered  consciousness 
Emily  Granville  opened  her  eyes  in  a  glare  of 
light  which  stung  her  vision  so  sharply  that  the 
lids  shut  instantly  in  intuitive  defense.  She 
could  feel  the  soothing  warmth  of  a  fire  near  by. 
She  was  prone  on  her  back.  An  attempt  to 
move  her  limbs  produced  a  sensation  of  being 
bound.  Turning  her  head  slightly  from  the 
direction  of  the  fire  she  opened  her  eyes  again 
timorously  upon  a  sky  burgeoning  in  a  new 
crescent  moon  and  a  myriad  of  stars.  The 
moon  and  stars  seemed  so  close  that  she  fancied 
that  all  she  had  to  do  was  lift  a  hand  to  touch 
them.  Lowering  her  gaze  she  saw  the  sea  and 
heard  its  wild  white  horses  neighing. 

With  a  cry  of  fright  the  castaway  started  into 
full  consciousness,  every  part  of  her  racked  and 
a-throb  with  pain.  By  a  great  effort  of  will 
she  struggled  into  a  sitting  posture  and  then  to 
her  knees.  The  firelight  blinded  her.  All  was 
still  within  its  radius.  An  apprehension  that 
she  alone  had  survived  the  riving  of  the  island 
overwhelmed  her. 

She  remembered  the  cataclysmic  upheaval 
84 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

which  had  flung  her  headlong  as  she  stood  be- 
side Lavelle  where  he  worked  at  the  boat.  She 
had  gone  to  him  to  ask  him  to  pause  but  a  min- 
ute to  take  a  little  food  and  drink.  He  had  an- 
swered her  harshly,  she  had  been  thinking ;  and 
then  a  mountainous  wave  had  hurled  him 
against  her;  into  her  arms,  in  fact.  She  had 
held  him  with  all  her  strength,  but  the  sea  must 
have  been  stronger.  It  must  have  taken  him. 
Her  memory  stopped  there. 

"  Captain!  My  friend!  "  she  called  in  an- 
guish to  the  night.  It  returned  no  answer.  The 
wind  lashed  her  face  and  throat  as  if  deter- 
mined she  should  be  still.  She  breasted  it  with 
the  fierceness  of  abandonment,  lifting  her  ach- 
ing arms  and  sobbing  to  the  heavens : 

"  My  God,  my  God,  why  hast  thou  forsaken 
me!  Why  did  you  take  him  and  leave  me?  ): 

Even  as  this  supplication  burst  from  her 
Chang  entered  the  circle  of  light,  carrying  an 
armful  of  wood.  Kowgowskii  followed  at  his 
heels,  similarly  burdened. 

"  All  lite,  lady!  No  be  flaid!  "  called  the 
Chinaman.  He  dropped  the  wood  as  he  spoke 
and  ran  to  her  side.  Her  gaze  went  expectantly 
beyond  him  into  the  darkness.  But  the  one  for 
whom  she  looked  did  not  appear. 

11  The  captain — where " 

85 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

Emily  could  not  utter  another  word.  She 
sank  back,  supporting  herself  by  one  arm.  She 
was  afraid  to  listen  to  the  giant's  answer. 

"  Him  all  lite — bimeby,  lady,"  said  Chang. 

Her  heart  surged  in  joy. 

"  He  is  alive?  *'  she  gasped.  "  Where  is 
he?  " 

She  straightened  again  on  her  knees. 

Chang  drew  back  the  edge  of  the  boat  sail, 
a  part  of  which  had  also  covered  her.  There 
lay  "  The  Shadow  "  of  the  lost  Cambodia  with 
the  bullet  wound  in  his  brow  reopened  where 
the  sea  had  mauled  him. 

"  Thank  God,"  Emily  murmured,  seeing  La- 
velle  stir. 

She  crawled  on  her  knees  to  his  side  and  felt 
the  pulse  of  the  hand  which  Chang  drew  out  of 
the  canvas.  Its  faintness  killed  the  gladness 
which  had  come  so  swiftly  into  her  heart. 

11  He — he — is  dying,  Chang!  "  she  cried. 

"  No  can  be;  no  can  be,"  answered  the  China- 
man with  fiery  emphasis.  "  Him  more  stlong. 
Go-an  get  better  more  kliek.  No  can  kill  master 
so  leasy." 

"  How  long  has  he  been  this  way,  Chang?  " 

"  Not  more  one  hour.    How  you  feet,  lady?  " 

For  the  first  time  Emily  was  conscious  of  a 
tearing  pain  in  her  ankles  and  insteps.  It  was 
86 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

more  intense  than  the  stab-like  thrusts  which 
were  piercing  the  rest  of  her  body.  Wondering 
what  conld  have  happened  to  her  she  turned  so 
that  she  could  see  her  feet.  The  trim,  delicate 
ankles  were  swollen  and  the  insteps  were 
bruised  and  bleeding. 

"  Velly  solly,  lady,"  said  Chang  soothingly 
and  in  the  manner  of  a  father  comforting 
a  little  child.  "  You  velly  blave.  You  velly 
stlong." 

As  he  spoke  the  Chinaman  gently  lifted  one1 
injured  foot.  She  shrank  from  his  touch  and 
put  out  a  hand  to  thrust  him  away. 

"  You  be  'flaid  flor  Chang!  "  asked  the  giant 
wistfully.  The  glance  with  which  he  looked  up 
at  her  made  the  woman  ashamed  that  she  had 
obeyed  the  impulse  of  littleness.  She  caught 
Rowgowskii  staring  at  her  from  across  the  fire. 
His  glance  was  a  challenge  to  all  the  fineness  of 
her  being. 

* '  I  beg  your  pardon,  Chang.  I  am  not  afraid 
of  you,"  she  said.  She  withdrew  her  protesting 
hand. 

11  You  my  master  flen.  He  say  by  me  when 
I  tell  him  you  hoi'  him  ban'  in  boat:  l  Chang, 
maybe  I  go-an  die.  All  hell  kom-men  you  go-an 
save  she.'  Bimeby  to-night  when  big  sea  kom- 
men  you  save  my  master.  You  save  Chang. 

87 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

You  like  me  die — I  go-an  die  flor  you.  You  must 
no  be  flaid." 

The  while  Chang  talked  his  long  yellow  fin- 
gers were  going  swiftly  over  Emily's  feet.  A 
surgeon's  skill  was  in  their  touch.  His  head 
was  bent,  hearkening,  where  he  manipulated  the 
ankle  and  toe  joints,  for  a  sound  which  would 
betoken  a  fracture. 

"  No  bone  bloke,"  he  announced  with  finality. 

'  *  Thank  you,  Chang, ' '  Emily  said  gratefully, 
and  presently  she  drew  from  him  an  account  of 
what  had  happened  following  the  upheaval. 

Chang  had  been  standing  near  the  fire  on  the 
hillside.  He  had  been  thrown  down  even  as  she 
and  Lavelle  were.  The  island  had  broken  apart 
and  a  great  sea  had  come  and  gone  quickly. 
The  earth  went  out  from  under  him.  It  flaked 
away,  carrying  him  down  to  the  sea  with  it.  He 
could  not  stop  himself.  Just  as  he  was  rolling 
over  the  edge  of  the  cliff  he  felt  an  arm  and 
caught  hold  of  it.  It  checked  his  descent.  It 
was  Lavelle 's  arm  that  he  caught  and,  draw- 
ing himself  up,  he  found  her  clutching  Lavelle 
with  both  hands  around  his  other  wrist.  Her 
feet  were  twisted  in  the  root  of  a  tree  which 
the  sea  had  washed  out  of  the  earth.  It  was  this 
root  which  had  saved  all  of  them. 

Emily  could  understand  now  how  she  came 
88 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

to  feel  like  one  who  had  been  broken  on  a  wheel. 
She  could  not  imagine  where  she  had  found  the 
strength  to  withstand  the  terrific  forces  which, 
according  to  the  giant's  description,  had  beset 
her.  She  believed  she  had  acted  unconsciously, 
but  at  least,  she  thought,  she  had  proved  herself 
not  useless.  She  found  comfort  in  this  mo- 
mentary reflection,  nor  did  she  suspect  that  a 
great,  new  power — a  power  like  unto  which 
there  is  no  other — had  dawned  in  her  life. 

"  I  catch  him  master,"  added  Chang,  "  but 
you  hoi'  flor  him  like  a  marther  hoi'  him  litty 
bit  chile  when  him  big  bear  kom-men  in  whiter. 
Chang  bring  you  here  flor  topside.  You  eye 
close.  Him  master  eye  close.  Him  head  must 
flor  stlike  'gainst  boat:  maybe  lock  hit  him. 
Him  boat  all  go  way. ' ' 

A  weary  faintness  made  Emily's  eyelids 
droop  for  a  second.  Chang  leaped  to  his  feet 
and  crossed  to  the  other  side  of  the  fire.  She 
watched  him  where  he  lifted  one  of  the  boat's 
breakers  and  poured  a  cup  full  of  water.  He 
was  back  in  a  moment  offering  it  to  her.  She 
drank  sparingly.  She  refused  to  eat  anything. 
She  asked  how  long  it  had  been  since  the  sunder- 
ing of  the  island  and  when  Chang  told  her  that 
not  more  than  an  hour  had  passed  she  found 
it  hard  to  believe  him.  It  seemed  to  Emily 

89 

s 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

that  it  must  have  happened  many  nights  before. 

The  giant's  answer  was  hardly  away  from 
his  lips  when  a  shudder  went  through  the  hill 
on  the  crest  of  which  he,  driving  Rowgowskii 
to  help  him,  had  fixed  the  encampment  and  re- 
built the  fire. 

"  What  florl  Whachamalla  you?  "  snarled 
Chang  at  the  menacing  earth.  The  next  breath 
brought  a  scolding  tone  into  his  quaint  voice. 
"  Him  go-an  be  night  velly  long  time,  Mr. 
Islan'.  More  better  you  go-an  sleep,  eh?  " 

The  whimsicality  of  this  speech  and  the  half- 
quizzical  expression  in  Chang's  face  brought  a 
faint  smile  to  the  lips  of  the  white  woman. 

"  You're  a  rare  soul,  Chang,"  she  whispered. 

"  Him  all  same  clay-zee,  dlunken  sailor  man, 
this  Mr.  Islan',''  the  giant  chattered  on.  He 
saw  that  he  amused  Emily.  And  always  he 
spoke  of  the  future  certainly.  So  far  as  his 
speech  and  manner  were  concerned  he  might 
have  been  safe  in  port  with  a  pleasant  city  in 
view  instead  of  on  the  border  line  of  the  world 
beyond.  Like  Lavelle,  he  possessed  the  mar- 
velous power  of  renewing  one's  faith. 

Of  his  master  the  Chinaman  spoke  as  the 
children  of  the  Orient  speak  only  of  their 
strange  good  gods.  He  told  how  Lavelle  nine 
years  before  in  Rangoon  had  saved  his  life  from 
90 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

the  murderous  hands  of  a  drunken,  mutinous 
crew  and  how  his  way  thereafter  had  been  the 
captain's  way  and  would  be  to  the  end.  He 
recalled,  too,  the  night  in  Shanghai  of  which 
Elsie  had  told  her.  He  wrung  tears  from  her  in 
recounting  the  fearful  winning  of  the  Kau  Limg 
to  Yokohama.  She  saw  the  knife  scars  on  the 
arm  lying  outside  the  sail  and  the  scars  on 
Chang's.  The  wounds  of  these  men  assumed 
a  sacredness  in  her  eyes. 

"  My  master  all  same  Chang  joss,"  was  the 
way  the  giant  summed  up  his  hero.  '  *  No  'flaid 
flor  enny-sling!  Nobody!  Him  say,  *  Chang, 
die. '  Must  flor  me  die. ' ' 

Emily  recalled  the  strange  scene  between 
them  at  the  boat  and  she  understood  the  truth 
of  this. 

Lavelle,  stirring  with  a  moan,  interrupted  the 
serang,  who  bent  his  head  and  listened,  ear 
close  to  the  unconscious  man's  lips. 

11  Him  sleep  now — more  better.  No  sleep  las' 
night.  No  sleep  to-day.  Him  velly  tli-ed." 

Emily  leaned  over  at  the  giant's  whisper  and 
caught  the  measured,  easy  breathing  of  a  tired 
sleeper.  Yet  she  heard  something  else  also. 

" — home  soon — dearheart.  Gold  girl — won- 
der  "  he  murmured,  and  Emily  wondered 

what  manner  of  woman  it  was  who  was  waiting 

91 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

across  seas  for  this  man's  home-coming.  It  was 
not  thus  he  would  speak  of  the  mother  to  whom 
he  had  set  out  to  return.  It  could  not  be  such 
a  woman  as  Shanghai  Elsie.  The  remembrance 
of  what  Eowgowskii  had  said  to  her  in  the  boat 
flashed  into  her  mind.  She  put  it  away  in- 
stantly. She  resented  it.  She  knew,  as  only 
it  is  given  to  a  woman  to  know,  that  it  was 
not  to  a  mate  like  Elsie  that  this  man  would  go. 
"  God  bring  him  safely  to  her,"  she  prayed 
in  her  pity  for  the  woman  of  whom  "  The 
Shadow  "  dreamed,  and  she  knew  not  that  she 
prayed  for  herself. 


92 


CHAPTER  XIV 

DAY  was  breaking  as  Lavelle  awoke  to  a  real- 
ization that  he  still  lived.  He  found  himself  in 
a  silence  so  awful  in  its  intensity  and  mystery 
that  it  made  him  catch  his  breath  sharply  like 
one  does  at  a  sudden  immersion  in  cold  water. 
The  peace  of  eternity  seemed  to  have  breathed 
a  spell  upon  the  pitiless  deep.  It  slept. 

His  long  sleep  had  refreshed  him  and  his 
mind  instantly  leaped  back  to  the  events  of  the 
night  before.  A  glance  round  him  discovered 
Chang,  a  hundred  feet  away,  searching  the 
horizon.  Eowgowskii  lay  stretched  on  the  op- 
posite side  of  the  fire. 

Just  as  Emily  had  imagined  him  lost  so  La- 
velle for   a  moment  believed  her   gone.    His 
senses  went  crashing,  but  they  reordered  them- 
selves instantly  at  the  touch  of  a  warm  body  at  ' 
his  side. 

Putting  his  left  hand  out  to  raise  himself  it 
fell  on  Emily  not  half  an  arm's  length  away. 
There  exhausted  nature  had  bent  her  head  in 
slumber  at  midnight  when  the  wind  hushed. 
There  Chang  had  covered  her  again  with  the 
boat  sail.  She  lay  with  her  right  arm  under 

93 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

her  vivid  head  and  her  face  toward  the  new 
day.  One  long  golden  braid  curled  across  the 
hilltop's  wet  grass  where  it  had  been  flung  un- 
consciously in  her  sleep.  The  other  hung  across 
her  exquisite  bosom,  rising  and  falling  gently 
with  her  breathing,  and  its  end  trailing  the 
ground.  Such  an  expression  as  Lavelle  had  so 
often  seen  in  the  faces  of  play-weary  children 
was  in  hers. 

"  Wonder  woman,"  he  murmured.  "  Won- 
der woman." 

Slipping  out  from  under  the  sail,  not  daring 
to  breathe,  Lavelle  gently  drew  the  canvas  back 
over  the  sleeper's  shoulders  and  stole  toward 
the  Chinaman.  A  slight  giddiness  assailed  him 
for  a  moment  and  with  it  there  came  a  reminder 
of  the  old  pain  which  he  had  felt  upon  awaken- 
ing first  in  the  boat. 

"  Master,  master,"  called  the  giant  worship- 
fully,  springing  toward  him. 

Chang's  first  glance  was  directed  at  Lavelle 's 
forehead  and  what  he  saw  there  pleased  him. 

"Him  all  lite,  master;  all  lite,"  he  said. 
"Him  stop  bleed." 

But  it  was  of  the  night  that  Lavelle  would 
hear,  and  the  Chinaman  rapidly  unfolded  the 
wondrous  tale  of  how  their  lives  had  been  saved 
by  Emily.  The  wrecked  boat  was  gone.  Emily, 
94 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

Lavelle,  Rowgowskii,  and  Chang  alone  remained 
of  those  who  had  escaped  in  their  party  from 
the  Cambodia.  The  two  coolie  sailors  had  been 
gathering  wood  at  the  foot  of  the  hill  when 
the  upheaval  came.  They  were  gone.  At  the 
end  he  whispered : ' '  You  lose  him  plistol  out  you 
plocket.  Nobody  know — only  Chang,  master." 

The  ocean  bore  no  trace  of  the  half  of  the 
island  which  had  been  torn  away.  In  the  heavy 
wind  and  sea  which  Chang  reported  of  the  first 
part  of  the  night  it  was  Lavelle 's  opinion  that 
the  derelict  mass,  bound  together  only  by  a  mat- 
tress of  interlaced  roots  and  vegetation,  must 
have  resolved  its  parts  with  the  waters. 

Owing  to  Chang's  having  placed  the  water, 
provisions,  and  the  boat's  equipment  high  on 
the  hill  when  the  craft  had  been  emptied  in  the 
evening,  the  sea  had  been  able  to  steal  but  little. 
The  treacherous  bit  of  earth  which  remained 
offered,  too,  an  important  contribution  to  the 
food  supply  in  a  wealth  of  taro  plants,  the  tuber- 
ous substitute  of  the  potato  in  the  islands  of  the 
Pacific.  It  is  of  this  that  the  Hawaiians  make 
their  poi.  I 

By  the  bearing  of  the  rising  sun  Lavelle  noted 
that  the  island  had  swung  round  completely 
during  the  night.  The  side  of  the  camel's  back- 
like  hill,  which  had  been  toward  the  south  the 

95 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

preceding  evening,  was  turned  to  the  nortH- 
ward.  The  crest  of  this  hill  was  at  least  two 
hundred  feet  above  sea  level.  As  the  island 
lay  now  its  northern  side  sloped  easily  for  per- 
haps fifty  yards  and  then  broke  off  abruptly  in 
a  sharp  cleavage  fifty  feet  sheer  to  the  sea. 

The  hill's  base  was  slightly  less  than  the 
island's  half-mile  width.  A  gentle  slope  marked 
what  had  become  the  eastern  shore;  a  straight 
palisade  rise  of  two  hundred  feet,  the  western 
side.  A  gradual  slope  on  the  hill's  southern 
side  blended  at  the  foot  with  an  undulating 
meadow,  green  with  grass  and  taro,  and  about 
three-quarters  of  a  mile  in  length.  A  lone  palin 
tree  rose  in  the  center  of  this  patch. 

The  top  of  the  hill  presented  a  flat  surface 
of  a  city  half -block  square.  At  no  distant  time 
a  thatched  hut  had  stood  there.  It  was  of  the 
remains  of  this  that  Chang  and  Bowgowskii  had 
built  the  fire. 

While  he  sipped  a  cup  of  water  which  Chang 
brought  to  him,  Lavelle  took  stock  of  all  these 
things.  Not  one  thought  of  solace  could  he 
draw  from  the  bitter,  hopeless  scheme  which 
unfolded  itself  to  his  gaze.  By  the  time  the 
non-arrival  of  the  Cambodia  was  read  into  dis- 
aster and  a  searching  ship  sent  into  these  seas 
the  end  would  have  long  since  come  to  this 
96 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

island.  Well  he  realized  the  emptiness  of  this 
stretch  of  ocean  and  the  one  chance  in  ten  thou- 
sand which  might  bring  a  stray  merchantman 
or  trader  stumbling  upon  them.  "Well  he 
realized  the  slight  tenure  of  the  crust  of  earth  * 
which  held  him.  Judging  from  its  assumed 
position  it  had  drifted  a  phenomenal  distance 
for  that  latitude.  He  believed  it  must  have  been 
ripped  away  from  one  of  the  islands  of  the 
Hawaiian  group.  That  it  had  survived  so  long 
seemed  to  him  miraculous  and  but  emphasized 
the  imminence  of  its  early  dissolution.  What 
had  already  happened  since  the  landing  con- 
firmed in  his  mind  that  the  next  storm  would  be 
the  mother  of  the  island's  oblivion  and  all  it  held. 
Floating  islands  are  uncommon  in  any  but 
the  most  placid  waters.  Yet  in  the  phenomena 
of  the  sea's  scheme  of  things  they  are  common 
occurrences.  The  charts  of  all  big  waters  are 
dotted  with  their  records.  Shipmasters  come 
to  port  reporting  an  island  where  one  was  never 
before  and  where  it  would  seem  against  all 
reason  that  one  should  be.  Still  man  imbued 
with  the  unconquerable  mystery  of  the  sea 
writes  this  report  on  his  charts  for  all  times. 
First  he  writes  it  as  a  fact,  justifying  its  as- 
sumption as  such.  According  to  its  reported 
size,  ships  go  searching  for  it — men-o'-war, 

97 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

leisurely  merchantmen,  vagrant  traders.  No 
island  is  found.  Only  sea  is  there.  But  man 
does  not  trust  the  deep;  he  never  will.  He 
does  not  erase  his  record.  He  marks  it  "  P.D." 
—position  doubtful.  Years  pass  without  fur- 
ther report  of  an  island  in  this  locality.  Then  he 
goes  as  far  as  he  dares.  He  writes  on  his  charts 
"  E.D." — meaning  "  Existence  doubtful." 

How  many  a  well-found  ship,  sailing  in  a  sea 
charted  clear  and  deep,  has  blundered  into 
islands  like  the  one  which  held  the  Cambodia 
castaways  and  suddenly  come  unto  her  last 
port!  No  man  may  tell.  Seldom,  however,  do 
ocean  traffickers  meet  with  these  waif  lands 
north  or  south  of  the  twentieth  parallels. 

With  never  a  dream  that  this  could  be  one— 
here  in  the  thirties — though  the  absence  of  reefs 
and  the  raw  and  broken  aspect  of  the  island 
shore  had  given  Mm  pause,  Lavelle  had  trapped 
himself.  He  had  captained  her,  for  whose  salva- 
tion he  would  gladly  lay  down  his  life,  into  a 
prison  to  which  death  held  the  key. 

It  was  with  this  bitter,  self-blaming  thought, 
and  tortured  by  it,  that  he  turned  away  from  the 
sea  to  behold  the  gold  woman  coming  toward 
him  with  a  wistful  smile.  He  ran  to  meet  her  and 
his  soul  cried  out  at  the  denial  of  its  impulse  to 
fold  her  to  his  heart  and  soothe  her  hurts. 
98 


CHAPTER  XV 

THEEB  days  of  life-renewing,  hope-burgeon- 
ing weather  had  followed  that  silent  dawn — 
days  of  placid  seas  and  gentle  breezes;  and 
nights  alight  with  stars  and  a  growing  moon. 
The  island  had  been  motionless.  It  might  have 
been  one  of  the  Blessed  Isles  in  a  world  where 
life  was  everlasting. 

Isle  of  Hope  Emily  had  christened  the  bit  of 
floating  earth,  nor  could  she  have  told  why 
optimism  reigned  in  her  heart  and  soul.  She 
was  unaware  that  she  was  reflecting  only  what 
the  manner  of  Paul  Lavelle  gave  forth.  His 
every  act  and  word  was  a  reassurance  of  faith 
and  the  motif  of  her  ever-increasing  wonder  of 
him. 

Yet  it  was  but  a  mask  of  service  which  La- 
velle had  determined  to  wear  for  this  woman's 
sake.  He  had  put  it  on  in  that  daybreak  when 
he  had  met  her  coming  toward  him  and  heard 
her  calling: 

"  We  still  live,  captain. " 

There  had  welled  in  his  heart  at  that  moment 
the  gentle  Stevenson's  prayer  for  grace — a 
prayer  which  had  sustained  Lavelle  often  in 

99 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

peril  and  sorrow — and  it  poured  from  his  lips 
to  find  an  echo  in  the  woman's,  for  she,  too, 
knew  it: 

"  '  Grant  that  we  here  before  Thee  may  be 
set  free  from  the  fear  of  vicissitude  and  the 
fear  of  death,  may  finish  what  remains  before 
us  of  our  course  without  dishonor  to  ourselves 
or  hurt  to  others,  and,  when  the  day  comes,  may 
die  in  peace.  Deliver  us  from  fear  and  favor; 
from  mean  hopes  and  cheap  pleasures.  Have 
mercy  on  each  in  his  deficiency :  let  him  not  be 
cast  down;  support  the  stumbling  on  the  way, 
and  give  at  last  rest  to  the  weary.'  " 

To  help  this  woman's  spirit  to  be  unafraid 
was  all  that  was  left  for  him  to  do  for  her.  It 
was  the  most  he  would  ever  be  able  to  do  for 
her.  Of  this  Lavelle  felt  certain.  He  knew  the 
sea  too  well  to  deceive  himself  with  a  false  hope 
that  its  kind  mood  would  continue  long.  But 
while  life  lasted  it  was  his  purpose  to  live  it 
fearlessly  and  as  if  years  still  measured  the 
span  and  not  swift  minutes. 

Under  his  hand  the  discipline  of  shipboard 
prevailed.  There  was  not  a  moment,  by  day  or 
night,  when  a  lookout  for  sign  of  succoring  sail 
or  light  went  unkept.  With  Chang,  his  right 
hand,  Lavelle  divided  the  night  watches,  not 
trusting  Eowgowskii.  Even  Emily,  according 
100 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

to  her  wish,  helped  in  the  tasks  of  preparing 
the  food  and  tending  the  fire  by  day.  An  out- 
of-doors  woman  by  tradition  and  inclination,  a 
powerful  rider  and  swimmer,  the  pride  which 
she  had  always  taken  in  her  physical  well-being 
was  standing  her  in  good  stead  now. 

Rowgowskii,  in  the  first  realization  of  the  ex- 
tremity which  had  come  to  pass,  had  abandoned 
himself  to  despair.  It  was  incredible  that  he 
had  ever  been,  as  he  claimed,  an  officer  in  the 
Eussian  navy,  or  otherwise  a  commander  of 
men.  He  was  absolutely  spiritless;  an  exem- 
plification of  the  truth  that  cowards  die  many 
times  before  their  deaths. 

But  with  the  coming  of  the  second  day  of 
fair  weather  his  funk  lifted  and  he  went  to  his 
appointed  tasks  with  a  willingness  which  was 
emphasized  by  his  previous  sullenness. 

Having  observed  at  the  outset  that  the 
island's  wood  supply  was  limited,  Lavelle  had 
been  husbanding  it  by  burning  sod.  He  used 
the  wood  solely  for  the  signal  fires  of  the 
night. 

Now  on  this  morning  of  the  fourth  day  he 
again  put  the  Russian  to  cutting  turf  from  the 
hillside,  the  while  he  and  Chang,  armed  with  the 
boat  axe,  set  forth  to  cut  down  the  palm  tree 
in  the  meadow.  Rowgowskii,  the  preceding 

101 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

evening,  had  suggested  its  addition  to  the  signal 
fuel. 

"  You  will  not  be  long,  captain?  "  asked 
Emily  as  Lavelle  paused  to  look  back  at  her 
in  leaving  the  crest  of  the  hill. 

"  No  longer  than  is  absolutely  necessary." 

"  And  you — you  will  be  careful,"  she 
warned,  and  unashamed  of  the  tremulous  note 
of  anxiety  which  crept  into  her  voice.  He 
nodded.  This  man's  presence  had  become  very 
necessary — very  precious  to  her. 

"  It's  your  watch  on  deck,  you  know,"  La- 
velle called  cheerfully.  Then,  with  a  quizzical 
lowering  of  his  brows  and  in  a  tone  of  pretended 
sternness,  he  added:  "Hold  your  course. 
Steady  as  you  go — and  keep  a  sharp  lookout." 

"  Aye,  aye,  sir,"  she  answered,  simulating 
the  speech  and  manner  of  a  sailor  to  an  officer. 

"  You  make  him  velly  good  sailor  man," 
Chang  chuckled  in  delight. 

"We'll  be  back  in  a  jiffy,"  said  Lavelle. 
With  that  he  and  Chang  swung  away  down  the 
hill. 

Emily  went  to  the  edge  of  the  slope  and 
watched  them  descend,  the  yellow  man  always 
leaping  ahead  to  test  and  examine  the  ground. 
At  the  foot  Lavelle  looked  back.  He  paused 
upon  discovering  the  watcher  and  waved  to  her. 
102 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

An  impulse  to  follow  him  seized  her,  but  re- 
membering that  he  had  intrusted  her  with  the 
lookout  she  overcame  it.  With  a  wave  of  the 
hand  she  answered  his  signal  of  cheer,  and  as 
through  a  mist  saw  him  go  away  from  her  across 
the  meadow  toward  the  lone  tree. 


103 


CHAPTER  XVI 

JUST  as  Lavelle  paused  at  the  foot  of  the  hill 
and  waved  his  hand,  Eowgowskii  looked  up  from 
where  he  was  cutting  turf  on  the  eastern  slope. 
Unconsciously  his  hand  went  to  his  flattened 
nose.  It  was  an  action  which  invariably  had 
come  to  accompany  any  glance  which  had  La- 
velle for  its  objective. 

Emily  was  hidden  from  his  view,  but  the  Rus- 
sian could  imagine  her  standing  up  there  on 
the  crest  answering  Lavelle 's  signal.  He  knew 
well,  too,  the  light  there  must  be  in  her  eyes. 
He  had  surprised  it  there  many  times  in  the 
preceding  three  or  four  days,  even  as  she  had 
startled  the  animal  lust  in  his. 

Rowgowskii  dropped  the  piece  of  metal  which 
he  was  using  for  a  cutting  tool.  It  was  part  of 
the  boat's  air  tank  with  which  Lavelle  had 
planned  to  repair  the  damage  done  by  the 
boulder.  His  gaze  followed  the  two  men  cross- 
ing the  meadow  until  he  saw  Chang  stop  sud- 
denly and  look  back.  He  started  as  if  the  China- 
man had  the  power  of  reading  his  thoughts.  A 
guilty  conscience  is  ever  the  quick  prey  of  an 
honest  eye.  With  much  show  of  industry  he 
104 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

picked  up  his  cutter  and  resumed  the  stripping 
of  turf.  This  activity  lasted  but  a  minute. 
Then,  his  gaze  wandered  around  the  empty  sea, 
only  to  return  to  the  two  men  below. 

In  the  second  that  the  Russian's  eyes  picked 
them  up  again  a  menacing  oscillation  passed 
through  the  earth  and  brought  him  in  terror  off 
his  knees.  He  saw  the  Chinaman  pitch  head- 
long out  of  sight.  The  next  second  whipped 
Lavelle  from  his  view.  The  palm  tree  remained 
the  single  object  in  the  meadow. 

Rowgowskii  hesitated  a  moment,  hearkening 
for  a  sound  from  above  him  or  from  the 
meadow.  The  silence  was  unbroken  save  by 
the  purr  of  the  morning  breeze. 

With  the  sneak  of  a  stalking  panther  in  his 
tread  he  darted  around  to  the  southern  slope. 
A  second's  pause,  a  flashing  glance  behind  to 
reassure  himself  that  "  The  Shadow  "  and  the 
yellow  man  were,  indeed,  gone,  and  he  sprang 
up  the  hill. 


105 


CHAPTER  XVH 

EMELY  held  Lavelle  and  Chang  in  view  until 
they  were  halfway  to  the  tree  and  the  China- 
man halted  and  looked  back.  It  was  as  if  the 
giant  had  flashed  a  message  to  her.  Her  heart 
gave  a  throb  of  apprehension.  Her  breath 
caught  in  her  throat.  Her  limbs  trembled.  She 
realized  that  she  was  alone  on  the  hill  with 
Kowgowskii.  Only  her  own  soul  knew  her  re- 
pugnance of  this  man  which  had  grown  with 
the  hours  since  they  had  come  to  the  island. 

Even  as  her  mind  bore  the  thought  Emily 
became  ashamed  of  her  trepidation  and  self- 
consciousness.  It  was  unworthy  of  the  kind  of 
woman  that  Lavelle 's  fearlessness  of  soul  and 
fortitude  made  her  desire  to  be. 

Mortified,  and  with  a  flush  mounting  her 
cheeks  at  what  she  considered  her  mean  selfish- 
ness, she  turned  from  the  meadow  and  the 
stretch  of  ocean  southward.  She  walked  across 
the  hilltop.  North,  east,  and  west  her  gaze  met 
an  empty  blue  expanse  of  water.  The  hill  oscil- 
lated and  she  swayed  with  it  unconscious  of  the 
motion.  Her  attention  was  held  by  the  glint 
of  a  white  wing  high  against  the  cloudless  azure 
106 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

sky  to  the  northward  where  a  frigate  bird  went 
seeking  a  mate. 

"  Oh,  if  we  but  had  your  wings!  "  she  ex- 
claimed. 

"  But  we  haven't,"  whispered  a  voice  close 
to  her  ear.  With  the  words  an  evil,  burning 
breath  struck  her  cheek  and  Rowgowskii's  two 
powerful  arms  encircled  her. 

At  the  touch  there  leaped  to  life  in  Emily  that 
furious  strength  which  has  been  given  to  women 
to  defend  themselves  or  their  offspring  from 
besoiling  or  destroying  hands. 

With  a  shriek  she  twisted  herself  in  the 
brute's  clasp  and  hurled  him  from  her,  but  not 
before  he  had  succeeded  in  crushing  his  hot, 
sensuous  lips  against  her  throat.  She  struck 
him  in  the  face  with  both  hands  clenched.  Land- 
ing where  Lavelle  had  smashed  him  in  the  boat 
the  morning  after  the  wreck  of  the  Cambodia, 
the  blows  drew  blood  and  swept  him  from  his 
feet.  He  went  over  backward  and,  falling, 
carried  with  him  the  boat  mast  which  was 
stepped  in  the  center  of  the  hilltop  for  a  sig- 
nal staff. 

Sending  a  piercing  shriek  toward  the  meadow, 
Emily  ran  toward  the  southern  slope.  Row- 
gowskii  staggered  up  in  her  path  with  out- 
stretched arms  as  if  to  stop  her.  He  hesitated 

107 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

and  stepped  aside.  The  unaccountable  action 
arrested  Emily. 

"Go  on  yelling!  >:  he  said  wrathful  ly. 
' '  There  is  nobody  to  hear.  We  are  alone — you 
and  I." 

A  sight  of  the  meadow  confirmed  his  words. 
Lavelle  and  Chang  were  not  there. 

The  Russian  laughed  as  she  faced  him  help- 
lessly and  incredulously,  her  strength,  for  the 
moment,  gone  from  her.  She  had  no  distinct 
thought.  The  capacity  of  thinking  and  feeling 
seemed  to  have  never  been. 

"  They  went  like  that,"  the  brute  went  on 
with  a  snap  of  his  fingers.  "  Just  as  we  are 
going  to  go — in  a — in  a  very  little  while."  A 
lingering  quaver  went  through  the  hill.  He 
started  cravenly.  "  Feel  that,  eh?  The  end  is 
very  near. ' ' 

Emily  was  silent.  Her  gaze  darted  away 
from  her  torturer  and  around  the  sea.  It  came 
to  rest  for  the  smallest  part  of  a  second  on  the 
western  edge  of  the  hill.  Determination  was 
born  of  the  thought  which  the  glance  sug- 
gested. Here  was  a  means  of  escape. 

The  cliff  was  perhaps  an  hundred  feet  from 
where  she  stood.  If  she  could  only  get  over 
there  a  step  would  carry  her  into  the  presence 
of  her  God  unashamed.  Her  purpose  was 
108 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

formed.  There  was  nothing  left  for  which  she 
cared  to  live.  The  camp  fire  was  between  her 
and  her  goal,  but  she  heeded  it  not. 

Rowgowskii's  gaze,  following  every  move- 
ment of  the  glorious  figure  of  womanhood  be- 
fore him,  set  the  fires  of  his  fiendishness  flaming 
in  new  desire.  He  advanced  a  step  in  front  of 
her.  She  retreated  a  step. 

' '  I  wonder  if  you  would  have  treated  Lavelle 
this  way  if  he  had  come  to  love  you?  Eh?  " 

There  was  no  answer  for  him,  but  Emily's 
lips  moved  in  murmuring  what  her  numbed 
senses  could  recall  of  Lavelle 's  prayer  for 
grace. 

"  Would  you  have  treated  him  this  way? 
Tell  me,  ma  beaute,"  he  leered.  He  took  an- 
other step  toward  her.  Again  she  retreated. 
Still  advancing,  the  passion  of  the  brute  in  his 
eyes  scorching  her,  he  said : 

"  Death  will  not  be  so  unpleasant.  You  are 
very  beautiful.  You " 

His  voice  broke  in  a  stammer.  A  piece  of 
burning  sod  rolled  out  of  the  fire  behind  his 
prey. 

1 1  Look  out !  "  he  cried. 

Emily  gave  no  heed.  She  put  one  foot  on 
the  sod  and  smoke  curled  up  where  it  burned 
through  the  sole  of  the  canvas  sandal  which 

109 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

Chang  had  made  for  her.    Then  she  lifted  the 
other  foot  beside  it. 

Nor  did  this  woman  cry  out  in  pain  nor  a 
feature  so  much  as  wince.  An  immortal  glory 
was  in  her  countenance.  The  look  she  bent  on 
the  man  before  her  sent  him  back,  cowering  in 
fear  and  awe. 


110 


CHAPTER  XVHI 

IN  the  instant  that  the  sublime  spirit  of  the 
gold  woman  conquered  the  beast  who  baited  her 
Lavelle  burst  over  the  crest  of  the  hill  from  the 
southern  slope. 

Like  the  captain  of  an  avenging  host  march- 
ing with  banners  of  flame  he  came  into  Emily 
Granville's  vision.  A  pallor  as  of  death  was  in 
his  face;  a  fire  of  irrevocable  decision  in  the 
glance  with  which  he  swept  the  scene  before  him 
into  his  comprehension. 

As  that  glance  touched  Emily  she  started  to- 
ward her  deliverer  only  to  stop. 

Lavelle 's  hand  fell  on  Eowgowskii's  shoulder 
and  hurled  him  round  before  him.  The  craven 
crumpled  to  his  knees.  The  beginning  of  a  cry 
of  terror  died  in  his  throat  in  a  mute  gasp. 
To  him  this  man  who  stood  over  him  was  come 
back  from  the  dead. 

11  Pray — if  you  can,"  said  Lavelle  in  a  grim 
voice  of  fate.  He  stepped  back  a  pace  as  he 
spoke. 

It  was  a  pronouncement  of  doom  that  he  had 
uttered.  Rowgowskii's  gaze  went  from  Lavelle 
to  Emily.  His  hands  went  out  to  her  in  sup- 
Ill 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

plication.       His  lips  moved  but  made  no  sound. 

"  Captain,"  she  called  pityingly. 

She  took  a  step  toward  him.  Without  turn- 
ing *  *  The  Shadow  ' '  raised  a  staying  hand. 

Eowgowskii  turned  from  Emily  at  her  call 
to  meet  again  the  merciless  gaze  of  Lavelle. 

"  Pray,"  said  Lavelle,  moving  toward  him. 

The  light  of  all  reason  went  out  of  the  doomed 
man's  face.  A  maniacal  cry  burst  from  him. 
He  leaped  to  his  feet.  Lavelle  sprang  at  him. 
With  a  speed  of  a  hawk's  swoop  the  Russian 
turned  and  fled  to  the  cliff.  A  second  he  hesi- 
tated on  the  brink  and  then  plunged  over  it' 
headlong. 

A  moment  of  silence,  then  a  splash  and  a  lin- 
gering cry  echoed  up  the  face  of  the  cliff.  The 
gold  woman's  tortured  nerves  relaxed.  Sense- 
less she  dropped  where  she  stood. 


112 


CHAPTER  XIX 

WITH  the  Russian's  wild  death  cry  still  echo- 
ing in  her  senses  Emily  awoke  a  half -hour  later 
to  a  vivid  consciousness.  She  found  herself 
lying  in  the  protecting  shade  of  the  boat  sail 
tent  which  Lavelle  had  erected  for  her  habita- 
tion near  the  eastern  side  of  the  hill  on  the  day 
after  the  landing.  The  scene  upon  which  her 
eyes  had  closed  flashed  again  across  her  vision 
and  she  sat  up  with  a  shudder. 

The  movement  brought  to  her  senses  for  the 
first  time  a  realization  of  physical  pain.  Re- 
membering the  strength  of  spirit  which  had 
been  given  to  her  to  stand  upon  fire  she  throttled 
the  cry  which  sprang  to  her  lips.  Her  suffering 
became  precious  to  her  even  as  the  agony  of 
travail  is  dear  to  a  woman.  Her  eyes  welled 
with  hot  tears. 

Putting  out  a  hand  blindly  she  found  the  little 
canvas  sandals.  She  picked  them  up  and 
pressed  them  to  her  bosom.  The  charred  heels 
and  soles  crumbled  away  at  her  touch.  She 
kissed  them  with  the  impulse  which  would  carry 
a  warrior's  lips  to  his  colors.  To  her  these 
pieces  of  canvas  were  the  symbols  of  a  faith 

113 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

which  had  sustained  her  in  a  trial  which  passed 
her  understanding. 

Looking  downward  at  her  feet,  she  found 
both  of  them  bandaged.  She  had  been  dimly 
conscious  of  Lavelle  doing  this  service  for  her. 
She  recognized  the  bindings  as  pieces  of  the 
hem  of  her  night  robe  with  which  she  had  bound 
his  brow  in  the  boat.  A  mysterious  thrill  went 
through  her;  her  eyes  overflowed. 

The  breeze  lifted  the  edge  of  the  tent  and  dis- 
closed Lavelle  to  her  view.  She  caught  the 
canvas  and  held  it  back.  He  was  just  finishing 
the  restepping  of  the  signal  mast.  His  back 
was  toward  her. 

Straightening  from  his  task  to  his  full  height 
and  with  one  of  his  strong  bare  arms  extended 
to  the  mast  and  the  other  hanging  loosely  at 
his  side,  he  looked  out  over  the  sea  to  the  south- 
ward. His  tattered  shirt  and  trousers  still  wet 
with  sea  water  clung  tightly  to  his  lithe,  power- 
ful form.  There  was  a  challenge  in  the  set  of 
his  head  and  in  the  grim  line  of  his  jaw.  His 
attitude  breathed  of  a  man  indomitable — one 
who,  indeed,  was  master  of  his  fate;  the  in- 
trepid captain  of  his  soul.  His  destiny  would 
find  him  thus. 

The  woman  in  the  tent  watched  this  man  in 
wondrous  awe,  nor  could  she  know  that  his 
114 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

thoughts  were  alone  of  her  at  that  moment — of 
a  woman  sanctified  in  his  sight  not  alone  by 
living  fire,  but  also  by  the  passion  of  a  love 
unutterable.  She  saw  the  breeze  toss  the  fore- 
lock of  his  dark  brown  hair.  He  started.  She 
dropped  the  edge  of  the  tent,  realizing,  without 
any  amazement,  that  they  two  were  alone  in 
an  empty,  far-flung  waste  of  the  world.  She  laid 
her  head  down  on  her  long  coat  which  he  had 
rolled  into  a  pillow.  She  dared  not  speak. 

During  what  seemed  an  interminable  time, 
the  woman  in  the  tent  heard  Lavelle  moving 
about  outside,  and,  of  a  sudden,  the  singleness 
of  his  footfall  brought  Chang  surging  into  her 
thoughts.  A  moment  later  Lavelle  stood  in  the 
tent  entrance,  carrying  food  and  drink.  She  sat 
up  to  behold  in  his  face  an  expression  which 
stabbed  her  with  its  pain. 

"  You  are  suffering,  little  woman,"  he  said 
tenderly. 

All  she  could  do  was  shake  her  head  that  she 
was  not.  Discovering  what  it  was  she  was  hold- 
ing tightly  to  her  bosom  he  turned  away.  He 
understood. 

Presently  he  pressed  her  to  eat  the  meal  he 
had  prepared.  Although  it  nearly  choked  her 
to  swallow  she  ate  and  drank  because  he  wished 
her  to  do  so. 

115 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

"  What  of  Chang?  Has  he  gone — gone 
away?  "  she  dared  to  ask  finally. 

The  man  sitting  in  the  tent  entrance  had  his 
gaze  fixed  far  away  upon  the  relentless  ocean's 
breast.  He  nodded  his  head  sadly. 

"  God's  benison  be  with  him — the  truest,  the 
best  friend  it  has  ever  been  given  to  any  man 
to  know,"  Lavelle  said,  facing  Emily.  After 
a  second's  pause  he  went  on  in  a  tense  voice: 

"  This  treacherous  earth — treacherous  with 
the  sea's  treachery — opened  at  our  feet  down 
there  like  the  snapping  jaws  of  a  monster. 
Chang  went  first.  I  put  out  a  hand  to  save  him. 
The  jaws  got  me. 

"  It  seemed  very  hard  that  the  end  should 
come  like  that — without  even  a  moment  to  say 
good-by."  Lavelle  paused  again.  "  You  can 
have  no  idea,"  he  resumed,  "  what  a  torment 
of  waters  is  down  there — waters  filled  with 
reeds  and  roots  which  catch  at  one's  limba  and 
cling  to  them — like  serpents. 

"  As  we  came  up  to — to  snatch  at  the  crust  of 
shore — it  crumbled  at  our  touch.  I  could  see  the 
hill.  You — you  had  just  turned  away.  As  I 
looked  your  head  passed  out  of  my  sight.  Then, 
we  saw  that — that  fiend  climb  up  here.  We  saw 
him  stop  and — and  look  back.  I  shouted — that 
is,  I  tried  to  shout,  but  I  had  no  breath.  I  never 
116 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

was  so  weak  in  all — all  my  days.  But  whether 
he  heard  me  or  didn't  he  must  have  seen  what 
had  happened  to  us.  He  would  never  have 
dared  come  near  you — if  he  hadn't. 

'  '  The  earth  broke  under  our  hands  again  and 
again.  The  sea  tore  at  us.  There  is  a  tre- 
mendous current  under  this  island.  I  heard  you 
cry  for — for  us  to  come  to  you.  Chang  heard 
you.  But  we  were  caught — struggling  like  two 
foolish  animals  in  a  trap.  When  the  signal  staff 

went  down Why,  I  think — I  could  not 

think.  We  saw  you  come  to  the  edge  of  the  hill 
there — heard  you  cry  again,  but  the  sea " 

Lavelle  became  silent.  His  eyes  sought  the 
great  blue  deeps  below.  Emily  could  not  speak. 
Her  soul  was  crying  to  comfort  this  man.  The 
yearning  of  an  unknown  motherhood  was  in  her 
heart. 

"Like  most  sailor  men  —  deep-water 

men "  he  went  on,  "  Chang  could  not  swim. 

I  imagine  he  must  have  found  a  foothold  in  one 
of  the  roots  in  the  water.  He  caught  me—- 
suddenly— lifted  me  bodily,  it  seemed,  up  out 
of  the  sea — on  to  the  shore.  He  was  very  pow- 
erful. I  turned  to  help  him.  All  was  quiet  up 
here.  He  shook  his  head  and — and  let  go. 

"  '  Go,  master.  Quick — go!  Good-by,  flen'. 
Good-by  flor  you !  ' 

117 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

"  A  second  only  he  floated.  Then  the  sea 
sucked  him — down.  He  went  with  a  smile — un- 
afraid. And  I  came  to — to  you — on  the  hill. 
You  don't " 

His  voice  broke.  He  leaped  to  his  feet  and 
walked  away.  It  is  not  a  good  thing  that  a 
man's  tears  shall  be  seen  by  a  strange  woman. 


118 


CHAPTER  XX 

WITH  the  going  down  of  that  day's  sun  a 
long,  heavy  swell,  accompanied  by  the  lightest 
of  breezes,  set  in  from  the  southwest.  It  was 
an  ominous  sign  to  Lavelle,  nor  could  he  con- 
ceal this  thought  when  he  carried  Emily's  even- 
ing meal  to  her.  She  asked  him  to  bring  his 
food  and  eat  it  in  the  tent  entrance. 

The  castaways  ate  their  pitiable  rations  in 
silence,  but  before  this  short  time  passed  the 
island  was  moving  in  concert  with  the  heave 
of  the  sea. 

A  shocking,  sense-stunning  crash  where  a 
part  of  the  western  cliff  slithered  down  into  the 
deep  sounded  the  end  of  the  meal.  While  the 
roar  was  dying  away  the  eyes  of  the  man  and 
woman  met  and  held  in  a  glance  of  under- 
standing. 

"  This  is — is  the  end!  "  Emily  asked  in  a  low 
voice. 

"  I  think — it  is  not  very  far  off,  little 
woman,"  he  answered.  He  told  her  this  truth 
because  he  knew  hers  was  a  spirit  unafraid. 
By  it  she  knew  that  he  knew  and  understood 
many  things  which  words  might  not  encompass. 

119 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

"  I  thank  you — so  much,"  was  her  answer. 
She  spoke  with  a  frank  gladness.  But  the 
slightest  quaver  was  in  her  voice. 

Lavelle  left  her  to  build  up  the  signal  fire. 
He  felt  certain  that  it  was  for  the  last  time.  It 
was  to  him  the  funeral  pyre  of  a  hope  which 
died  by  the  minute,  and  he  laid  on  the  fuel  with 
unsparing  hand.  Some  night-borne  craft  might 
by  miracle  see  its  gleam,  yet  the  light  of  a  moon 
in  all  the  splendor  of  fullness  lessened  this  re- 
motest of  possibilities  to  the  barest  minimum. 

Although  Lavelle  was  gone  from  the  tent  but 
a  little  while,  it  seemed  an  eternal  time  to  the 
woman,  who  waited  for  his  return.  And  when 
he  came  her  eyes  were  dry;  and  she  held  out 
a  hand  for  him  to  help  her  to  her  feet. 

"  I  have  no  pain/'  she  said,  answering  his 
protest.  "  I  speak  the  truth.  I  wish  to  be  out 
in  the  night — with  you." 

After  the  first  step  or  two  Emily  walked 
freely  and,  indeed,  the  pain  of  her  burns  had 
passed  away.  The  while  Lavelle  knelt  to  make 
a  seat  for  her  she  stood  sweeping  the  heavens 
with  her  luminous  eyes.  Across  the  northern 
sky  a  large  star,  falling,  burst  upon  her  vision. 

1 '  See !  ' '  she  exclaimed,  and  then,  turning  to- 
ward him,  she  repeated  Calpurnia's  words  to 
CaBsar : 
120 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

"  '  When  beggars  die  there  are  no  comets  seen ; 

The  heavens  themselves  blaze  forth  the  death  of  princes !'" 

It  was  a  night  made  for  life  and  love  and  the 
joys  of  living — not  death;  a  night  to  set  the 
soul  singing  in  gladness  of  being.  It  seemed  to 
have  garnered  the  uttermost  spaces  of  their 
brightest  jewels  to  bedeck  its  violet  cope  and 
make  it  the  harder  for  this  man  and  woman  to 
say  farewell  to  mortality. 

Save  in  the  intervals  when  Paul  went  to  re- 
plenish the  fire  he  sat  at  Emily's  side,  and  to- 
gether they  watched  and  listened  to  the  majestic 
travailing  of  the  weariless,  pitiless  deep. 

It  was  not  far  from  midnight  when  the  sea 
tore  away  half  of  the  meadow  and  the  palm 
tree.  This  bit  of  earth  floated  in  their  sight 
for  but  a  breath.  It  was;  then  it  was  not. 
Where  it  had  been  was  a  patch  of  leaping,  roil- 
ing waters,  white-fanged  like  wolves  at  a  kill. 

Emily  put  out  a  hand  and  took  one  of  Paul's. 

' '  The  end — it  will  come — like  that — quickly, ' ' 
she  whispered.  * '  I  will — will  not  be  afraid — I 
am  sure — if  you  will  let  me  hold  your  hand. ' ' 

Paul  Lavelle  could  make  no  answer  save 
pressing  the  gentle  hand  in  both  of  his.  It  was 
sufficient  to  comfort  her.  After  a  long  silence 
she  asked: 

"  Why  are  you  not  afraid?  " 

121 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

"  I  don't  know,"  he  answered  simply,  "  un- 
less it  is  because  I  can't  believe — that  a  mar- 
velous creation  like  mankind  stops — with  what 
we  call  death.  I  can't  believe  that  wondrous 
beings — like  you — and  Chang,  capable  of  the 
sublimest  thoughts  and  impulses — come  and  go 
and  are  no  more.  Rather  I  think  that  what  we 
are  facing  is  *  Yet  a  little  sleep,  a  little  slum- 
ber, a  little  folding  of  the  hands  to  sleep.'  ; 

Nor  was  Emily  conscious  of  her  hand  clasp- 
ing Paul  Lavelle's  with  love's  tightness  in  its 
pressure. 

"  My  father  believed  as  you,"  she  began, 
only  to  stop  short  as  she  felt  him  start.  She 
had  ever  been  on  her  guard  against  speaking 
of  her  people  to  this  man,  for  she  knew  his 
sensitiveness  as  to  the  past.  But  once  had  she 
made  reference  to  the  tragedy  which  embraced 
her  life  and  his.  That  was  in  the  boat  when 
she  had  assailed  him  to  save  Rowgowskii  from 
drowning.  Now  she  knew  not  what  else  to 
say. 

"  Miss  Granville,"  he  said  presently. 

"  No,  no,  please  don't!  '  she  protested. 
"  Not  that  tone;  not  that  distance.  Call  me 
friend,  comrade — just  as  you  have  been  doing 
these  past  few  days.  Call  me  Emily.  It  would 
please  r^e;  it  would  sound — like  home  to — to 
122 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

hear  somebody  call  me  by  the  old  name  once 
more." 

"  Emily,"  Lavelle  went  on,  "  I  should  like 
you  to  know  what  happened  that  night  on  the 
Yakutat — the  truth.  If  you " 


. . 


No,"  she  interrupted  him.  "  If  I  say  to 
you  that — that  I  do  not  wish  you  to  tell  me,  you 
will  not  misunderstand?  " 

"  As  you  wish,"  he  answered,  but  there  was 
a  chill  in  his  voice. 

"  No,  no!  "  she  cried.  "  You  do  not  have 
to  tell  me  what  happened.  Don't  you  under- 
stand! I  know.  I  know  you  to  be  brave — and 
true  and  upstanding.  I  know  you  acted  as  only 
one  unafraid — fearless  as  you  are,  could  have 
acted.  And  I  thank  God  that  he  has  given  it 
to  me  to  know  you  and — to  understand !  ' : 

Her  voice  broke.  Her  eyes,  swimming  with 
tears,  saw  him  turn  toward  the  fire.  A  weight 
seemed  lifted  from  him.  She  sensed  the  com- 
ing of  a  great  peace  to  his  soul. 


123 

CD 


CHAPTER  XXI 

A  HIGH  dawn — one  presaging  storm — found 
the  castaways  standing  beside  the  signal  fire 
which  swiftly  smoldered  into  the  ashes  of  hope- 
lessness. The  swell  had  increased  during  the 
morning  hours.  The  hill  now  afforded  a  foot- 
ing unsteadier  than  a  laboring  ship's  deck.  The 
breeze  of  the  night  continued  light  and  steady. 

With  the  first  glimmer  of  day  Lavelle  went 
searching  the  sea.  His  gaze  swung  the  horizon 
again  and  again,  following  the  withdrawing 
mantle  of  night  only  to  confront  the  old  bitter 
emptiness  of  all  the  days  that  had  gone  before. 

Lavelle 's  eyes  kept  seeking  the  distance,  but 
Emily's,  untrained,  sought  the  sea  at  hand.  So 
it  was  that  her  sight  was  the  first  to  discover 
a  sail  barely  two  miles  away  to  the  south  and 
west. 

At  the  discovery  her  throat  closed.  She  could 
not  speak.  She  stood  breathless,  half  in  trance. 
Lavelle,  turned  to  the  eastward,  felt  her  clutch 
his  arm.  He  sent  a  glance  whither  she  dumbly 
pointed. 

"  A  sail !"  he  cried.    "Saved!    This  means 
life,  you  brave,  brave  soul !  ' ' 
124 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

He  seized  her  by  the  arms  and  shook  her  as 
a  boy  meeting  a  boy  playmate  might  have  done. 
Her  whole  being  thrilled  at  his  touch.  A  glori- 
ous light  of  love  came  into  her  countenance,  but 
he  saw  it  not. 

As  he  spoke  to  her  he  dropped  her  arms  and 
his  glance  sprang  away  to  find  the  sail  again. 
Fixing  it,  Lavelle  could  not  control  his  amaze- 
ment. Emily  saw  a  great  seriousness  succeed 
the  expression  of  delight  in  his  face  and  manner. 
A  chill  touched  her  new-born  hope. 

"  What  do  you  see,  captain?   "What  is  it!  " 

"  I  don't  know  what  to  tell  you.  I  am  not 
sure  yet.  Still  there  is  something  strange " 

"  Why,  that  ship It  is  moving  side- 
ways! "  she  cried.  "  It  is  not  sailing!  " 

Lavelle,  indeed,  was  puzzled.  The  strange 
sail  was  an  iron  or  steel  bark  of  perhaps  twelve 
hundred  tons,  hove  to  on  the  port  tack.  Her 
f orecourse  and  f oretopsails  were  set.  The  f  ore- 
topgallantsail  hung  in  its  clewlines  and  bunt- 
lines.  The  maintopgallantsail  and  topsails  were 
set  and  laid  full  aback  against  the  mast.  The 
main  course  was  clewed  up.  The  peak  of  the 
spanker  had  been  let  go  and  the  gaff  was  flailing 
from  side  to  side.  She  carried  two  skysails. 
These  and  the  royals  were  furled.  All  of  the 
headsails,  with  the  exception  of  the  foretop- 

125 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

mast-staysail,  were  down  and  trailing  away 
from  the  bowsprit  and  jibboom.  None  of  the 
other  staysails  was  set.  She  was  laden  and 
laboring  hard.  It  seemed  that  the  swell  must 
roll  the  sticks  out  of  her. 

From  the  height  at  which  they  stood  Lavelle 
and  Emily  could  see  her  lie  down  with  every 
heave  of  the  sea  and  put  her  lee  rail  under. 

Now,  for'  a  second,  rolling  deeper  than  she 
had  before,  Lavelle,  from  a  new  angle,  confirmed 
what  he  had  suspected  from  the  beginning. 
Her  wheel  was  deserted !  Her  decks  were  life- 
less !  She  was  in  charge  of  herself ! 

The  bark  was  rapidly  drifting  closer.  An- 
other fifteen  minutes,  Lavelle  figured,  would 
carry  her  by  the  island  half  a  mile  to  the  south- 
ward. It  was  a  moment  for  quick  decision. 
Emily  read  his  purpose  to  swim  to  the  bark. 

"  God  alone  knows,  Emily,  what  mystery 
confronts  us.  But  our  only  chance  of  life  lies 
out  there.  It  may  be  another  trap,  comrade, 
but  we  must  hope.-  I  feel  that,  for  your  sake, 
I  must " 

11  For  our  sakes,"  she  interrupted  him,  but 
he  did  not  seem  to  hear  her.  He  was  bending 
over,  removing  his  shoes. 

"  I'll  win  back  to  you — I'll  come  for  you  if 

it  be  in " 

126 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

"  It  will  not  be  in  death,  but  in  life.'' 

Startled,  eagerly  he  beheld  the  love-light  in 
her  eyes,  only  to  turn  quickly  away.  His  heart 
throbbed  as  if  it  must  burst.  His  tortured  soul 
moaned  in  its  yearning  and  passion  to  crush 
her  to  his  breast.  In  the  face  of  death  he  would 
have  claimed  her  at  this  sign ;  gone  out  with  his 
lips  pressed  to  hers.  In  the  face  of  life — the 
promise  of  living  which  the  bark  held  forth — 
he,  the  pariah,  said  no  to  his  desire. 

His  face  was  masked  and  cold  as  he  turned 
toward  her  again,  and  the  gold  woman  bent  her 
head  for  shame.  He  broke  out  the  boat  mast 
and,  carrying  it  over  his  shoulder,  he  held  out 
his  hand  and  led  her  swiftly  down  the  hill.  His 
hand  was  very  cold.  He  set  her  a  lookout  point 
at  the  foot  of  the  hill. 

"  Wait  here,"  he  said  in  a  voice  which 
sounded  unlike  him.  "  At  no  second  lose  sight 
of  the  bark.  Be  on  your  guard.  If  anything 
should  happen  to  the  island  cling  to  this  mast. 
It  will  keep  you  up.  I'll  come  for  you — I'll 
pick  you  up. ' ' 

His  gray  eyes  were  glistening  with  sup- 
pressed emotion. 

"  And  if — if,"   she   said,   "  this   should  be 

good-by — and  we  should  not  meet  again " 

127 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

She  drew  his  head  down  and  kissed  him  full 
upon  the  lips. 

Without  a  word  he  ran  across  the  meadow 
to  the  sea. 

Emily  watched  him  as  he  dropped  off  the 
swaying  land  and  struck  out  powerfully  toward 
the  bark  now  head  on  to  the  southern  shore. 
For  a  moment  her  heart  grew  still  with  mis- 
giving. Then,  it  thrilled  with  a  joyous  impulse. 
She  hurried  across  the  meadow.  As  she  went 
she  removed  her  long  cloak  and  the  golfing 
jacket.  At  the  shore  she  stopped  and  tore  the 
bandages  from  her  feet.  Looking  seaward  she 
saw  where  Lavelle  swam.  Dropping  her  skirt 
quickly  she  stood  for  a  second  in  the  long  white 
night  robe  in  which  she  had  escaped  the  Cam- 
bodia. Inhaling  a  long,  deep  breath  she  plunged 
overboard  fearlessly. 

Lavelle,  looking  backward,  missed  Emily. 
His  spirit  slumped.  He  paused  his  stroke,  fear- 
ful for  her  safety. 

The  sun  at  that  moment  burnished  the  crest 
of  a  wave  behind  him.  A  white  arm  clove  its 
mane  of  foam  and  his  heart  leaped  to  behold  the 
gold  woman  following  in  his  wake. 


128 


CHAPTER  XXH 

THE  sight  of  this  woman  following  after  him 
held  Paul  Lavelle  bound  for  the  moment  in  the 
inertia  of  awe.  All  sense  of  their  common  and 
great  peril  left  him.  Wonder  robbed  him  of 
the  power  of  thinking  just  as  it  had  on  the 
island  when  she  had  drawn  his  head  to  her  and 
pressed  her  lips  upon  his.  He  comprehended 
the  thing  by  instinct  alone. 

With  the  powerful,  sweeping  overhead  stroke 
of  a  practiced  swimmer  Emily  overtook  him  on 
the  crest  of  a  foaming  surge.  The  plaits  of  her 
hair  had  been  washed  by  the  sea  into  a  free 
golden  mane.  The  grace  of  a  Nereid,  of  the 
ocean  itself,  was  in  her.  She  might  have  been 
borne  of  the  deep.  The  myth  of  Thetis  must 
have  had  such  a  conception. 

As  she  swung  up  to  him,  shoulder  to  shoulder, 
Lavelle  turned  on  his  side.  With  a  toss  of  her 
head  she  brought  it  clear  of  the  water.  The 
light  of  her  countenance  said  to  him  as  plainly 
as  words  could  have  done :  ' '  I  am  here !  I  am 
thine !  ' '  He  caught  her  and  drew  her  face  to 
his.  His  lips  went  to  hers  and  clung  in  a  wild, 

129 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

fleeting  second  of  union.  Then,  side  by  side, 
they  struck  out  to  meet  their  destiny. 

Taking  the  weather  berth,  Paul  set  the  pace 
toward  the  strange  vessel.  It  was  already  to 
leeward  of  the  island's  median  line.  The  send 
of  the  swell,  however,  more  than  balanced  the 
craft's  swift  drift  in  the  swimmers'  favor.  Yet 
the  half-mile  of  their  turbulent  course  was  a 
test  for  the  strongest  and  bravest.  The  willful, 
tenacious  power  of  love  sustained  Emily  until' 
they  came  within  hail  of  their  goal.  Here  flesh 
and  blood  struck.  Her  spirit  remained  un- 
daunted, but  the  body  refused  the  spirit's  de- 
mands upon  it. 

Sensing  that  Emily  was  failing,  Lavelle  put 
out  a  hand  and  turned  her  on  her  back.  In  that 
moment  he  realized,  too,  that  he  was  near  ex- 
haustion. The  ridge  of  a  gigantic  surge  lifted 
them  higher  than  the  rail  of  the  bark.  Paul 
could  distinguish  every  fixture  of  her  deserted 
decks.  The  sea  dropped  away  with  them.  The 
next  instant  the  vessel's  leaden-colored  side  and 
half  of  her  copper-painted  bottom  were  reeling 
over  them.  They  might  have  been  looking  up 
at  her  from  the  bottom  of  the  ocean.  Her  masts 
appeared  to  pierce  the  blue,  sun- shot  sky. 

Although  convinced  there  was  no  ear  aboard 
the  vessel  to  hear  Paul  drew  on  his  rapidly 
130 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

waning  strength  to  send  a  yell  down  to  her. 
The  sails  flung  back  a  faint,  mocking  echo.  All 
the  while  his  eyes  were  searching  for  some 
means  of  boarding.  Being  an  iron  vessel  the 
bark's  sides  presented  no  chain  plates  or  chan- 
nels for  a  hand  hold.  Deeply  laden  though  she 
was  the  bights  in  which  her  braces  trailed  were 
far  beyond  his  reach  even  when  she  rolled. 

The  belief  that  he  might  be  able  to  climb 
aboard  with  the  aid  of  a  lee  brace  had  been 
with  him  when  he  took  to  the  water.  From  the 
island  it  had  seemed  that  this  gear  swept  the  sea 
with  every  surge.  Not  so  much  as  an  eyebolt 
offered  a  ray  of  hope.  The  boomkins  were  as 
possible  of  touching  as  the  tops.  He  turned 
toward  the  bows.  There  might  be  a  chance  for- 
ward, but  he  felt  certain  that  Emily's  strength 
would  never  withstand  the  mauling  of  the  sea 
that  must  follow  catching  hold  of  the  bobstay. 

Lost  for  a  moment  in  the  eagerness  of  his 
search,  the  bark  had  drifted  down  upon  them 
until  a  stroke  would  have  brought  them  to- 
gether. The  sensation  of  being  drawn  down 
made  him  aware  of  it.  It  shocked  him  into 
action.  Dragging  Emily  with  him,  Paul 
plunged  away  just  in  time  to  escape  a  terrific 
suction  produced  by  the  vessel's  laboring. 

Hardly  were  they  clear  of  this  new  peril, 

131 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

which  he  instantly  realized  must  be  taken  into 
account,  when  something  wound  itself  around 
Paul's  legs  with  a  jerk.  It  clung  like  the  ten- 
tacle of  a  monster.  It  snatched  him  toward  the 
vessel.  The  bark  was  lifting  at  the  moment. 
He  and  Emily  were  falling  away  in  a  valley  of 
beryl.  Instinctively  he  threw  himself  on  his 
back,  kicking  as  best  he  could  to  free  his  pris- 
oned limbs.  A  glance,  as  his  feet  came  clear 
of  the  water,  transported  him  from  the  depths 
of  fear  and  hopelessness  to  the  heights  of  hope. 
He  was  entangled  in  a  rope's  end  which  was 
attached  to  the  bark.  He  caught  it  just  as  it 
was  slipping  away  from  him.  Overhauling  it 
with  one  hand  he  found  it  to  be  a  gauntline 
which  trailed  away  from  a  block  at  the  end  of 
the  lee  main  yardarm.  To  his  sailor  mind  it 
told  how  the  vessel's  small  boats  had  been 
hoisted  out  of  her. 

It  was  with  misgiving  that  he  drew  the  line 
toward  him.  It  came  so  freely  that  he  was  cer- 
tain that  it  was  but  another  mockery.  At  each 
pull  he  expected  to  see  its  length  come  darting 
through  the  block.  Presently  it  held;  it  sus- 
tained his  weight.  It  was  fast  aboard  the  vessel. 
His  heart  bounded  at  the  discovery.  He  passed 
a  bight  round  Emily's  waist  and  darted  from 
her  side  forward.  Hurling  himself  into  the 
132 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

smothering  suction  under  the  bows,  he  clutched 
the  bobstay  as  it  buried  itself.  Down  he  went 
with  it,  dragged  further  and  further  until  it 
seemed  that  he  must  let  the  sea  have  him.  A 
monster  with  an  hundred  beaks  tore  at  his  lungs. 
Another  clawed  at  his  eyes.  Still  another 
gnashed  at  his  heart.  A  bare  glimmer  of  <  con- 
sciousness marked  the  end  of  the  downward 
pitch.  As  the  bark  rose  he  continued  to  climb. 
At  the  end  of  the  rise  he  was  clear  of  the  sea 
and  halfway  to  the  cap  of  the  bowsprit.  The 
fangs  which  reached  for  him  did  not  get  him 
again. 

Half  an  hour  afterward  Paul  Lavelle  found 
himself  lying  on  a  deck  with  water  hissing  over 
him  and  round  him.  It  gurgled  in  his  ears  and 
foamed  across  his  throat.  It  was  being  spat  at 
him  out  of  three  or  four  scuppers  and  a  bulwark 
port  on  his  right.  He  was  in  the  waist  of  a 
vessel.  This  was  a  hatch  coaming  against 
which  his  left  side  was  pressed — the  coaming 
of  the  vessel's  main  hatch.  He  sat  up  and  saw 
Emily  lying  across  the  hatch  unconscious.  The 
bight  of  the  gauntline  was  still  around  her.  As 
he  struggled  to  arise,  only  to  fall  back  again, 
his  cheek  swept  one  of  her  feet  which  dangled 
over  the  edge  of  the  coaming.  Yes,  he  had  torn 
that  woman  out  of  the  sea's  arms.  There  she 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

was  in  evidence  of  that,  but  where  lie  had  found 
the  strength,  how  he  had  done  it  or  when  he  had 
done  it,  he  had  no  idea. 

The  names  Emily  and  Daphne  were  mixed  in 
his  thoughts.  It  took  a  severe  mental  struggle 
to  identify  his  own  name.  He  repeated  it  two 
or  three  times  before  he  recognized  it.  Emily 
was  the  name  of  the  woman  on  the  hatch.  But 
Daphne?  This  name  puzzled  him  until  his  wan- 
dering gaze  found  a  row  of  deck  buckets  in  a 
rack  on- the  edge  of  the  forward  house.  Daphne 
was  painted  on  each  bucket.  Then  slowly  it 
came  to  him  that  he  had  seen  it  on  the  bows  of 
a  vessel  aboard  which  he  had  climbed  a  long 
time  before. 

His  senses  were  bogged  in  the  reaction  of  the 
despair  of  exhaustion — that  hopeless  dejection 
which  follows  a  supreme  mental  or  physical  ex- 
ertion and  whose  poignancy  is  the  greater  ac- 
cording to  the  successful  degree  of  the  effort. 
He  slipped  back  to  his  full  length  in  the  water 
and  lay  staring  up  at  the  sky. 

"Paul!    Paul!" 

His  name  called  in  a  plaintive  tone  over  his 
head  was  what  finally  aroused  him  to  a  realiza- 
tion of  his  situation.  The  voice  touched  a  chord 
in  his  being  that  impelled  him  to  action.  It  sent 
a  wave  of  emotion  through  him.  He  rose  to  a 
134 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

sitting  posture.  Again  his  cheek  brushed  the 
gold  woman's  feet,  and  at  the  touch  he  bent  his 
head  quickly  and  kissed  them.  It  was  not  the 
first  time  he  had  done  this, 'but  it  startled  him 
now,  for  he  sensed  that  she  was  conscious  of 
what  he  did.  Yet  thus  on  the  island  he  had 
kissed  her  reverently  and  sacredly  when  he  had 
bound  her  burns. 

As  he  struggled  to  his  feet  Emily  sat  up.  Her 
hair  fell  across  her  shoulders  and  bosom  and 
across  her  limbs  in  a  golden  shower. ' 

"  Oh,  woman  of  all  the  world,"  he  mur- 
mured, ' '  we  still  live !  ' 

This  woman  was  his.  She  had  challenged 
him  against  the  sea — matched  him  against  all 
its  brute  force — and  he  had  won  her. 

For  a  second  only  Emily  met  and  held  Paul's 
glance.  Then,  lowering  her  head  and  throwing 
herself  in  abandon  across  the  hatch,  she  burst 
into  tears.  So  did  the  reaction  of  all  she  had 
passed  through  come  upon  her. 

Paul  turned  away,  chastened  by  those  tears. 
He  realized  that  no  word  he  might  = utter  then 
would  assuage  one  drop  of  them.  Action  called 
to  him,  but  he  seemed  to  be  unable  to  put  a  hand 
on -the  situation.  A  long  weather  roll  caught 
him  unawares.  It  flung  him  across  the  deck  and 
he  brought  up  against  the  fife  rail  around  the 

135 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

mainmast.  His  limbs  quivered  under  Mm;  his 
knees  knocked  together  in  weakness.  Every 
muscle  of  him  throbbed  and  twitched  from  the 
effects  of  the  battle  he  had  waged  with  the  sen. 
A  momentary  dread  that  he  would  never  re- 
cover his  strength  seized  him. 

It  was  in  that  instant  that  his  gaze  snapped 
a  glimpse  of  the  island  far  up  to  windward.  It 
appeared  very  small.  He  marveled  that  the 
bark  could  have  drifted  so  far.  A  lee  roll  cut 
the  bit  of  land  from  his  view.  He  started  to 
call,  Emily,  but  forbore  at  the  sound  of  her  sob- 
bing. As  if  fascinated  he  waited  until  the  bark 
lifted  on  the  shoulder  of  the  next  swell.  Like 
sugar  melting  in  a  teacup  the  island  t  dissolved 
in  his  sight.  It  stirred  him  mightily.  It 
aroused  in  him  the  spirit  of  combativeness.  It 
made  him  realize  that  the  sea  would  stand  not 
on  his  dalliance.  It  ordered  him  to  action  and  to 
confront  the  mystery  of  the  ocean's  traffic  with 
the  abandoned  Daphne. 

It  required  but  a  glance  for  him  to  confirm 
his  estimate  of  the  vessel's  size  which  he  had 
formed  in  his  first  view  of  her  from  the  island 
and  while  he  swam  beside  her.  She  was  not 
less  than  1,200  tons  burden — about  200  feet  long 
and  less  than  forty  feet  beam — and  heavily 
sparred.  Her  lower  masts  and  topmasts  were 
136 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

of  iron  or  steel.  They  were  pole  masts ;  that  is 
to  say,  in  one  continuous  piece.  The  lower  and 
double  topsail-yards  also  were  built  of  iron  or 
steel.  Everything  bespoke  the  fact  that  she  had 
been  built  for  driving. 

Calling  to  Emily  that  he  would  be  gone  but  a 
minute,  Paul  drew  an  iron  belaying  pin  from 
the  fife  rail  and  started  aft.  He  armed  himself 
against  surprise,  although  he  felt  instinctively 
that  he  and  Emily  were  alone.  Still,  all  to  be 
seen  about  decks  indicated  that  the  bark  had 
not  been  long  abandoned. 

A  teakwood  door  was  open  and  hooked  back 
against  the  cabin's  forward  bulkhead.  A  sim- 
ilar door  on  the  starboard  side  was  shut. 
Through  the  open  door  he  entered  the  after- 
living  quarters.  A  slamming  of  doors  and  the 
familiar  sound  of  the  hard  woods  in  the  cabin 's 
trim,  working  in  their  joinings,  answered  the 
invader's  hail  flung  from  the  threshold.  Once 
inside,  he  found  himself  in  a  white-painted  al- 
leyway at  the  end  of  which  a  banging  door  gave 
him  a  glimpse  of  the  forward  cabin  or  saloon. 
His  nostrils  first  caught  a  stench  of  lamps  which 
had  flickered  out  in  oil  dregs. 

All  ships  are  so  ordered  in  their  appointments 
that  a  seaman  is  never  at  a  loss  to  find  his  way 
in  any.  Lavelle  could  have  gone  about  the 

137 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

Daphne  blindfolded.  He  did  not  have  to  look 
at  the  brass  plate  over  the  first  door  off  the 
alleyway  on  his  right  to  tell  it  was  the  room  of 
the  chief  mate.  The  door  was  open,  but  some- 
thing behind  it  kept  it  from  swinging  more  than 
a  couple  of  inches  as  the  vessel  labored.  He 
gave  it  a  quick  shove  and  stepped  inside  the 
room,  only  to  pause  with  a  gasp  of  horror. 

At  the  invader's  feet,  bathed  in  the  morning 
sunlight  which  poured  through  two  ports,  lay 
the  stark  body  of  a  young,  lithe-limbed  son  of 
the  sea.  Barely  more  than  a  boy  he  had  been. 
There  was  a  gaping  bullet  wound  between  his 
eyes.  It  was  a  wound  of  exit — where  the  lead 
which  had  killed  him  had  sped  away  from  its 
work.  It  cried  out  a  story  of  assassination  to 
Lavelle ;  it  shrieked  to  him  that  the  young  fellow 
had  been  shot  from  behind,  possibly  as  he  slept 
in  his  berth  with  his  back  toward  the  door.  The 
rolling  of  the  ship  had  brought  the  body  to  the 
deck  where  it  lay. 

The  lockers  of  the  room  were  wrenched  open. 
Everywhere  were  signs  of  disorder;  the 'marks 
of  hurrying,  marauding  hands.  Yet  the  room 
had  been  the  castle  of  a  man  of  order  and 
cleanliness.  Lavelle  looked  particularly  for  the 
bark's  log  book  which  ordinarily  should  have 
138 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

bieen  on  the  small  desk  at  the  foot  of  the  berth. 
It  was  missing. 

With  a  thought  of  how  sweet  life  must  have 
been  to  this  young  fellow  and  with  his  wrath 
hot  against  his  slayers,  Lavelle  stepped  across 
the  alleyway  to  the  second  and  third  mates' 
room.  Its  door  opened  at  a  touch.  Here, 
strangely,  the  sour,  unmistakable  odor  of  the 
forecastle  'met  him.  Instantly  the  searcher 
visualized  the  coarse  type  of  men  who  had  occu- 
pied these  quarters — the  rule-of-thumb  sort,  who 
may  spend  a  lifetime  at  sea  without  ever  win- 
ning to  a  rank  above  second  mate.  Here  dis- 
order was  not  apparent  because  disorder  was  a 
natural  thing. 

There  was  a  stateroom  abaft  the  mate's.  It 
was  empty.  A  door  immediately  opposite  had 
been  forced.  It  was  another  stateroom  filled 
with  stores.  It  was  plain  that  a  quick  draft 
had  been  made  upon  these  supplies. 

Darting  into  the  forward  cabin,  only  the  echo 
of  his  own  hail  answered  him.  A  red  table- 
cloth lay  on  the  deck  where  it  had  been  swept  by 
some  person  hurrying  by  or  <•  else  in  a  struggle. 
A  white  metal  castor  rolled  under  the  dining 
table  and  made  a  tinkling  noise '  among  its 
broken  cruets.  The  pantry  and  three  more 
staterooms  opened  upon  this  cabin.  The  state- 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

rooms  reported  only  emptiness.  They  bad  not 
been  recently  -occupied.  The  pantry's  cleanli- 
ness and  order  might  have  been  produced  by  a 
careful  housewife's  hands. 

The  doors  leading  into  the  after  cabin  were 
open  and  hooked  back.  Like  the  forward  com- 
partment, it  was  done  in  Indian  teak,  bird's- 
eye  maple,  and  mahogany.  It  was  furnished 
with  two  comfortable  easy  chairs,  a  small  center 
table,  and  a  divan  built  into  the  bulkhead 
against  the  starboard  side.  A  tiny  piano  stood 
between  the  forward  entrances.  Through  the 
after  end  a  companionway:led  up  on  to  the  poop. 

There  were  two  more  staterooms  here.  They 
were  empty  and  gave  no  signs  of  recent  occu- 
pancy. They  were  on  the  port  side.  To  star- 
board was  the  chart  room.  A  litter  of  books, 
charts,  and  chart  pipes  covered  its  floor.  The 
chronometer  case  stood  open.  A  glance  told 
Paul  that  it  had  been  wound  within  forty-eight 
hours.  He  bent  his  head  and  quickly  caught  a 
tick  of  even,  smooth  escapement. 

Hurrying  aft  from  the  chart  room,  the  cast- 
away came  to  what  he  knew  to  be  the  skipper's 
room.  The  door  to  it  was  shut.  Its  middle 
panel  was  splintered.  Something  made  him 
turn  the  knob  with  gentleness. 

Just  inside  the  door  to  the  left  a  man  in 
140 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

pajamas  sat  at  a  small  writing  desk,  his  bead 
cast  upon  his  arms  as  if  sleep  ;had  suddenly 
overtaken  him.  His  head  swayed  as  Paul  looked 
down  at  him.  It  was  lending  itself  to  the  swing 
of  the  vessel,  but  the  motion  was  so  natural  that, 
for  the  moment,  Lavelle  was  deceived.  A 
strange  hope  sprang  into  his  heart. 

"  Wake  up, •  old  man!  Wake  up!  "  he  called. 
He  even  shook  him  by  the  shoulder,  but  the  man 
at  the  desk  was  sleeping  a  sleep  that  knows  no 
mortal  awakening.  i 

Under  the  stiff  arms  Paul  spied  the  log  book 
which  he  had  missed  from  the  mate's  room.  He 
pulled  it  out  and  ;the  dead  man's  head  rolled 
back  and  compelled  his  disturber  to  meet  the 
gaze  of  his  wide-open,  staring  blue  eyes.  A  pen 
rolled  out  from  under  his  right  hand  and 
dropped  from  the  desk. 

This  undoubtedly  was  the  Daphne's  skipper. 
He  had  been  a  man  of  powerful  build,  standing 
in  life  as  tall  as  Lavelle  himself.  Even  in  the 
laxness  of  death  his  jaw  bespoke  indomitable  de- 
termination. The  nose  was  of  a  splendid  ag- 
gressive type.  Death  had  taken  him  in  the  be- 
ginning of  his  best  years.  He  could  not  have 
been  more  than  forty  years  of  age. 

A  crimson  splotch  just  below  the  chest  line 
told  where  the  man's  life  blood  had  gone  out. 

141 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

Measuring  its  location  by  sight  with  the  height 
of  the  door's  splintered  panel,  Lavelle  ventured 
a  deduction  of  how  the  Daphne's  master  and 
mate  had  been  assassinated.  The  master  had 
been  asleep  or,  at  any  rate,  he  had  retired.  His 
apparel,  his  disturbed  berth  told  that.  He  had 
heard  the  shot  which  did  for  the  mate,  or,  per- 
haps, he  might  have  gone  to  the  door  unsus- 
pectingly to  answer  a  knock  or  summons.  His 
hand  turning  the  knob  had  been  the  signal  to 
the  assassin  on  the  other  side  of  the  door  to 
send  a  bullet  crashing  through  it  into  his 
midriff. 

But  how  the  skipper  had  come  to  have  the 
log  book  in  his  room  it  was  not  possible  to  sur- 
mise unless,  after  being  shot,  he  had  had  the 
strength  to  make  his  way  to  the  mate's  room 
and  back  again.  Again  he  might  have  taken 
the  keeping  of  the  log  into  his  own  charge. 
Could  he  and  the  mate  have  quarreled?  Asking 
himself  this  question,  the  searcher's  eyes  ran 
down  the  pages  at  which  the  book  had  lain  open 
and  stopped  with  a  shock  at  three  words : 
"  The  second  mate- 
That  was  the  final  entry. 
It  was  written  in  a  hand  which  had  begun  the 
formation  of  the  letters  in  a  tight  style  and 
ended  in  the  scrawling  of  a  schoolboy,  a  blot 
142 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

and  a  splattered  dash.  Where  this  dash 
finished  there  had  death  touched  the  fingers 
which  held  the  writer's  pen. 

Whatever  had  happened  aboard  the  Daphne 
it  was  the  second  mate  who  was  responsible  for 
it.  Paul  was  convinced  there  was  no  escape 
from  the  indictment  in  those  three  words. 

It  was  a  P.M.  entry  under  date  of  March  29. 
According  to  Paul  Lavelle's  account  of  time  it 
was  now  March  31.  Some  time  during  the  night 
of  two  days  before — on  the  29th — mutiny  had 
lifted  its  red  hands  on  the  Daphne. 

The  log  was  written  up  to  eight  o'clock  on 
the  evening  of  the  29th.  It  must  have  been 
the  last  thing  the  fair-haired  boy  now  lying  cold 
forward  had  done  before  turning  his  lamp  down 
for  his  eternal  "  watch  below." 

But  as  startling  as  was  the  tragedy  which 
loomed  so  boldly  out  of  the  three  simple  words 
which  have  been  quoted  was  the  Daphne's  posi- 
tion given  as  of  noon  of  that  day :  *  *  Latitude 
32:  30  north;  Longitude  176: 28  east." 

This  instantly  destroyed  Paul's  idea  of  the 
island's  position.  The  bark  had  drifted  up  on 
the  island  out  of  the  southwest.  Then,  accord- 
ing to  the  most  reasonable  assumption,  she  had 
been  to  the  southward  of  it  when  she  was  aban- 
doned. That  put  the  island  between  three  and 

142 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

four  hundred  miles  to  the  northward  of  where 
the  castaways  had  believed  it  to  be  all  the  time. 
Its  drift  must  have  been  to  the  north  and  east 
instead  of  the  southwest.  This  explained  the 
absence  of  the  trades;  the  variable  quality  of 
the  winds  which  had  prevailed.  The  island  had 
drifted  across  the  spot,  or  within  a  short  dis- 
tance thereto,  of  where  the  Cambodia  had  found 
her  grave. 

Paul  decided  to  let  the  observation  which  he 
planned  to  make  at  noon  settle  the  puzzle  of 
position.  The  moment  demanded  that  he  should 
give  his  thoughts  to  it  and  the  living,  and  not 
to  the  past  and  its  dead.  Still  as  he  laid  the  log 
down  on  the  desk  again  he  turned  to  the  page 
which  began  it  and  read,  in  the  style  of  the 
ancient  sea  formula : 

' '  Log  of  the  bark  Daphne,  1,252  tons  burthen, 
of  Liverpool,  England,  John  McGavock,  master, 
on  her  voyage  from  Sydney,  N.  S.  W.,  toward 
San  Francisco,  U.  S.  A." 

And  with  something  of  boyish  pricle  the 
keeper  of  the  log — it  was  not  in  the  skipper's 
writing — had  posted  his  name  with  boldness  at 
the  head  of  the  list  of  the  ship's  company: 
"  William  Elston,  chief  officer."  It  was  the  im- 
agination of  youth  gilding  the  rank.  It  seemed 
144 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

to  speak  that  the  Daphne  had  given  the  boy  his 
first  berth  as  mate. 

"  And  they  murdered  you,  William  Elston, 
and  you,  too,  John  McGavock,"  said  Paul  with 
a  sad  bitterness,  turning  away  from  the 
desk. 

A  frightened  cry  from  Emily,  a  smothered 
sob  and  the  patter  of  her  bare  feet  carried  Paul 
through  the  open  door,  but  not  quickly  enough 
to  cut  off  her  view  of  the  still  occupant  of 
the  skipper's  room.  She  shrank  into  his 
arms  shuddering,  and  as  he  pressed  her  to 
him  she  tried  to  crush  her  sobs  against  his 
breast. 

"  Don't  be  frightened — don't  be  frightened, 
dearheart,"  he  crooned  to  her.  His  lips  found 
her  brow,  her  eyes,  her  mouth. 

'  *  I — I—  Oh,  Paul,  I  thought  you  had  gone 
— away,"  she  sobbed.  "  You  were — were  so 
long." 

Paul  had  not  been  away  from  the  deck  more 
than  five  minutes,  but  the  time  had  seemed  to 
her  thrice  and  thrice  again  as  long. 

Brokenly  she  told  him  how,  as  she  had  en- 
tered the  door  through  which  she  had  seen  him 
disappear,  her  eyes  had  found  the  figure  of  the 
mate  stretched  in  his  room. 

"  Then — there  is  another — one — in  there!  " 

145 
4 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

she  went  on.  "  Oh,  Paul,  never  leave  me  again ! 
Will  you,  dear?  Will  you?  Not  until  death 
comes  to  take  us  both?  ' 

Her  teeth  were  chattering  from  cold  and 
nervous  exhaustion. 

"  No,  dear;  not  until  death,"  he  answered  her 
pleading,  but  the  kiss  which  he  pressed  on  her 
mouth  spoke  in  greater  reassurance  to  her  heart 
than  his  words.  "  Much  has  happened  here- 
much  that  I  don't  understand;  much  that  we 
may  never  understand.  But  just  now  we  must 
think  of  ourselves.  We  must  think  of  living; 
of  fighting  on.  You're  going  to  fight  on  with 
me,  aren't  you!  You're  going  to  be  brave  and 
never  lose  hope?  You  don't  know  how  brave 
you've  been.  You  have  been  the  inspiration  of 
the  battle  all  along.  Look  up  at  me." 

His  powerful  arms  held  her  away  as  he  spoke 
and  she  glanced  up  at  him  timidly. 

"  It  is  not  hard  to  be  brave  with  you,"  sh* 
said,  and  he  drew  her  to  him  so  fiercely  that  she 
could  not  help  crying  out. 

He  released  her  in  alarm.  His  arms  dropped 
to  his  sides. 

"  I'm  a  brute;  I've  hurt  you,  dear." 

"  No,  no,"  she  protested  with  a  smile  of  lore, 
but  her  eyes  sought  a  red  mark  on  her  round, 
gleaming  shoulder,  and  for  the  first  time  eack 
146 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

of  them  became  conscious  of  the  meagerness  of 
her  attire. 

"  Did  I  bruise  you  that  way?  " 

* '  No,  no,  Paul.  It  happened  when  you  were 
dragging  me  over  the  side.  The  rope  did  it." 

As  she  spoke  she  drew  the  yoke  of  her  long 
white  gown  higher  on  her  shoulders.  Her 
cheeks  mantled  red  with  shame  and  he  turned 
away  from  her.  Yet  in  the  next  instant  her 
cheeks  crimsoned  a  deeper  hue  in  shame  of  that 
shame,  for  it  came  to  her  as  a  truth  that  in  the 
sight  of  this  man  there  could  be  no  abasement. 

Paul  reentered  the  skipper's  room,  remember- 
ing that  he  had  seen  an  ulster  and  a  mackintosh 
hanging  in  a  corner  to  the  right  of  the  desk.  He 
swept  them  on  to  his  arm  in  his  bewilderment. 
It  was  one  thing  to  outfit  a  man;  another  to 
garb  a  woman.  His  eye  caught  a  pair  of  socks 
hanging  over  the  edge  of  a  half -open  drawer 
under  McGavock's  berth.  He  snatched  these. 
He  added  a  pair  of  straw  sandals,  whose  toes 
protruded  from  under  the  settee  across  the  rear 
bulkhead,  to  his  collection  and  also  a  blanket— 
a  fine  white  California  blanket  which  lay  in  a 
roll  at  the  foot  of  the  berth.  It  was  the  best 
he  could  think  of  doing  at  the  moment. 

Emily  was  shivering  on  the  divan  when  he 
returned  to  her. 

147 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

"  Lie  down  there,  dear,"  lie  said,  "  and  I'll 
tuck  you  in  and  bring  you  some  coffee — some- 
thing warm,  anyway — and  some  food." 

"  No,  no,  no,"  she  said,  starting  up.  "  Don't 
leave  me  here — alone.  Not  now.  I  know  the 
dead  can't  hurt  one,  but — I  must  go  with  you. 
When  all's  said  and  done,  Paul — I'm  only- 
only  a  woman " 

She  took  the  ulster  from  him  and  slipped  it 
on.  It  was  large  enough  to  have  wrapped  her 
round  twice.  She  plunged  her  feet  into  the 
warm  woollen  socks  and  gave  a  little  sigh  of 
pleasure. 

"  I — I  feel  better  already." 

11  Now  put  these  on." 

Paul  handed  her  the  sandals,  and  as  she  took 
them  she  studied  them  for  a  second,  only  to 
glance  up  at  him  with  a  startled  expression. 

"  These  are  a  woman's,  Paul,"  she  whis- 
pered. "  And  that- 

She  indicated  the  mackintosh,  and  he  held  it 
out  before  him. 

11  This  is  a  woman's,  too,"  he  said  in  the  same 
breath  with  her. 

"  A  woman!  A  woman?  "  he  repeated,  and 
he  wondered  if  here  was  the  key  of  the  mystery 
of  the  Daphne. 


148 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

TOGETHER  the  castaways  went  forward  to  the 
galley,  passing  out  of  the  cabin  through  the 
starboard  alleyway  so  that  Emily  might  not  see 
again  what  was  in  the  mate's  room.  As  Paul 
stepped  out  on  deck  he  mentally  marked  the 
time  by  the  sun's  ascension.  It  was  not  later 
than  8:30  o'clock. 

Signs  of  hurried  departure  met  the  eye  on 
every  hand  in  the  galley.  Chief  among  them 
was  a  batch  of  bread  which  had  been  put  to 
rising  beside  the  range.  But  Paul  did  not  pause 
to  make  any  examination  until  he  had  rattled 
up  a  fire.  He  had  picked  up  a  box  of  matches 
in  McGavock's  room.  There  was  a  bin  of 
kindling  and  plenty  of  coal  in  the  scuttles,  and 
it  took  only  a  few  minutes  to  get  a  meal  to- 
gether. It  was  the  warmest  and  best  breakfast 
they  had  enjoyed  since  they  had  been  cast  away, 
albeit  the  mainstay  was  a  porridge  of  canned 
corn  which  Paul  had  hit  upon  as  the  most  prom- 
ising thing  in  a  quick  search  of  the  stores  aft. 
For  the  rest  there  was  hard  tack  and  marma- 
lade and  coffee.  This  coffee,  a  strong  brew, 
was  really  the  crown  of  the  breakfast.  Its 

149 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

yery  odor  was  life-giving;  strength-restoring. 

Over  the  breakfast  Paul  related  with  all  the 
gentleness  at  his  command  the  facts  which  had 
been  revealed  by  his  search  through  the  cabins. 
There  was  little  to  add  to  what  Emily  had  seen 
herself. 

'  *  We  are  alone,  Emily, ' '  he  said, ' '  except  for 
those  who  will  never  wake  again. ' ' 

Fearful  that  similar  heart-harrowing  sights 
might  be  held  by  the  forward  part  of  the  vessel 
as  those  which  the  sore-beset  girl  had  discov- 
ered aft  he  induced  her  to  remain  in  the  warmth 
of  the  galley  while  he  pressed  his  search  in  the 
forecastle. 

"  Don't — please  don't  stay  long,"  she 
pleaded.  "  I  feel — that — that  I  will  never  be 
able  to  bear  it — to  have  you  go  out  of  my  sight 
again."  A  shudder  shook  her.  "  When  I  saw 

you — a  little  while  ago Oh,  the  ship  fell 

on  you !    The  bows  came  down  and — buried  you 
in  the  water " 

"  There,  there,  dear.  Let  us  never  think  of 
it  again.  I  have  only  a  glimmer  of  an  idea — of 
what  happened.  I  don 't  know  what  happened ; 
in  fact,  I  don't  want  to  know.  All  I  do  know 
and  all  I  care  about  is — that  somehow  I  had  the 
sand — the  brute  strength  to  save  you.  Just  you 
of  all  the  world!  " 
150 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

He  seized  her  passionately  as  he  spoke  and 
kissed  her.  The  pressure  of  her  firm,  lithe  body 
against  his  sent  his  blood  clamoring.  The  nat- 
ural perfume  of  her  hair  made  his  brain  hammer 
drunkenly.  Still  above  the  tumult  which  beset 
his  senses  rang  a  mocking  laugh — a  devil's 
laugh.  As  he  caught  it  a  chill  went  over  him. 
He  put  Emily  away  from  him  as  fiercely  as  he 
had  taken  her  and,  crying,  without  a  word,  she 
sank  on  the  bench  in  front  of  the  fire  and  hid 
her  face  in  her  hands.  As  he  turned  away  his 
brow  was  clouded  with  anger;  his  eyes  filled 
with  bitterness. 

A  second  Lavelle  stood  motionless,  his  trem- 
bling breath  an  unuttered  curse  of  himself. 
Then  he  turned  to  the  door  at  his  side  and 
banged  it  open.  It  was  the  entrance  to  the 
cook's  cubby-hole  of  a  room.  A  piece  of  mat- 
ting and  a  wooden  pillow  in  the  bunk  told  that 
its  late  occupant  had  been  either  a  Chinese  or 
Japanese.  There  was  an  odor,  too,  that  bespoke 
the  recent  presence  of  an  opium  smoker.  He 
had  departed  in  a  hurry. 

There  was  another  door  leading  aft  from  the 
galley.  This  was  the  entrance  to  the  carpenter 
shop  and  donkey  engine  room.  A  cubby-hole 
with  a  bunk  in  it  to  port  had  been  the  car- 
penter's abode.  Lavelle  noted  with  satisfaction 

151 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

the  equipment  of  glistening,  well-kept  tools  on 
the  engine  room  bulkheads. 

Hurrying  forward,  Paul  entered  the  fore- 
castle. It  was  an  exceptionally  large  one  for  a 
vessel  of  the  Daphne's  size.  Echo  answered  his 
hail.  Mattresses — the  straw  pallets  which  sail- 
ors call  "  donkeys'  breakfasts  " — clothes'  bags, 
ditty  bags,  oilskins,  sea  boots,  sou 'westers,  an 
assortment  of  greasy  pots,  pannikins,  and 
spoons,  and  two  filthy  kids  littered  the  black 
deck.  Half  a  dozen  chests  gaped  open,  their 
contents  falling  over  their  sides.  The  hands 
that  had  gone  through  them  h^d  sought  only 
the  bottoms  where  money,  trinkets,  and  sup- 
posed valuables  had  been  hidden  by  their  own- 
ers. So  had  he  found  the  chests  in  the  rooms  of 
the  second  and  third  mates,  the  carpenter,  and 
the  cook.  In  their  extremity  they  had  all  acted 
alike — thought  only  of  useless  baubles  and  left 
useful,  necessary  things  behind. 

A  sailor  before  the  mast,  used  and  inured 
to  hardship,  living  by  the  hour  hand  in  hand 
with  death,  trained  in  the  expectancy  of  sudden 
danger,  ever  aware  of  the  constant  attendance 
of  peril,  might  be  expected  to  act  with  more  in- 
telligence in  an  emergency  which  may  cost  him 
his  life  than  the  humdrum-going  citizen  ashore. 
Left  to  himself,  he  will  go  out  of  a  ship  in  mid- 
152 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

ocean  with  a  few  shillings  he  has  stored  in  the 
bottom  of  his  bag  or  chest,  a  model  upon  which 
he  has  been  spending  most  of  his  watches  below, 
a  derby  hat  or  flash  necktie  for  which  he  paid 
four  times  too  much  at  his  last  port.  Rarely  has 
he  a  thought  of  necessary  things — the  countless 
useful  articles  of  clothing  such  as  Paul  Lavelle 
saw  on  every  hand — overcoats,  jackets,  under- 
clothing— which  a  day  or  an  hour  in  an  open 
boat  can  make  worth  a  king's  ransom. 

The  forecastle  had  been  emptied  in  a  hurry, 
but  it  told  no  other  tale  than  that.  There  is  no 
lair  of  mankind,  no  habitation  of  man's  devise- 
ment  more  cheerless  than  a  ship's  forecastle. 
There  is  no  sight  more  depressing,  more  dismal 
than  one  deserted. 

Paul,  with  a  shudder,  crossed  from  the  star- 
board side,  through  which  he  had  entered,  to 
port.  The  breath  of  fresh  air  which  he  caught 
as  he  threw  back  the  door  and  stepped  out  on 
deck  was  like  a  draught  of  wine.  His  spirits 
lifted  as  it  dissipated  the  sea-sour  stench  which 
his  nostrils  were  carrying.  He  turned  forward 
immediately  to  at  last  come  upon  an  explana- 
tion of  the  exodus  from  the  Daphne. 

The  fore  hatch  was  open.  The  covers  were 
strewn  about  the  deck.  Up  out  of  the  glisten- 
ing cargo  of  coals  came  an  odor  of  fire.  There 

153 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

was  no  smoke,  but  fire  had  been  or  was  down 
there. 

He  recognized  the  dangerous  quality  of  the 
coals  at  once.  It  was  fear  of  it  that  had  emptied 
the  crew  overside  in  panic.  His  mind,  in  the 
stress  which  had  been  upon  it  while  he  was  aft, 
had  not  grasped  the  probable  character  of  the 
cargo  when  he  read  in  the  log  book  with  what 
the  Daphne  was  laden. 

Dropping  down  through  the  hatchway  his 
bare  feet  felt  no  heat.  None  of  the  signs  of 
"  trouble  "  which  he  knew  so  well  was  present. 
He  had  fought  cargoes  like  this  one. 

All  was  cool  below;  not  the  faintest  indica- 
tion of  gas.  But  still  there  was  an  odor  of  fire. 
He  crawled  out  into  the  wings,  and  as  he  did 
so  his  eyes  became  accustomed  to  the  semi- 
darkness.  Thus  by  sight  he  located  the  source 
of  the  baffling  fire  smell.  It  was  under  the  deck 
just  forward  of  the  hatch — a  heap  of  ashes 
burned  from  all  sorts  of  old  junk.  Mattresses 
had  made  part  of  the  fire. 

Not  two  feet  away  from  where  the  fire  had 
burned  most  briskly  lay  a  five-gallon  tin  of 
kerosene  on  its  side.  The  arsonist  who  had 
carried  it  there  either  had  lost  his  nerve  at  the 
end  and  been  afraid  to  open  its  cock,  or  else  he 
had  depended  upon  it  to  explode. 
154 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

Still  this  fire  which  had  been  set  with  the 
intention  of  destroying  the  Daphne  had  made 
much  smoke  and  burned  out  impotently.  The 
deck  above  it  was  only  slightly  charred. 

Paul  raked  through  the  ashes  feverishly. 
The  coal  underneath  was  as  cool  to  the  touch  as 
it  was  elsewhere.  Not  more  than  a  handful  of 
it  was  blistered. 

When  he  drew  himself  up  on  deck  again  he 
hauled  a  couple  of  buckets  of  water  from  over 
the  side  and  threw  it  on  the  spot  where  the  fire 
had  burned  as  a  matter  of  extraordinary  pre- 
caution. Nor  did  he  forget  to  bring  the  kerosene 
out  of  the  hold. 

Emily  met  him  with  a  smile  of  gladness,  which 
immediately  turned  into  a  laugh  of  humor  as 
Paul  stepped  into  the  galley  again. 

'  *  Where  have  you  been — what  have  you  been 
doing?  "  she  asked. 

11  Why — what  is  the  matter?  " 

* '  You  should  see  yourself  in  a  glass.  You  're 
as  black  as  a  moor." 

He  paused  a  second  to  survey  himself.  He 
indeed  was  a  sorry  sight.  The  thin  tattered 
shirt  and  the  trousers  which  he  had  slashed  off 
at  the  knees  when  he  struck  out  from  the  island 
still  clung  to  him  damply.  His  limbs  were  black 
with  coal  dust. 

155 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

"  I  can  imagine  the  color  of  my  face,"  said 
he,  and  he  rubbed  the  stubble  of  beard  on  his 
cheeks.  "  But  never  mind  my  appearance — 
only  pour  me  a  cup  of  that  strong  coffee." 

While  he  drank  the  black  brew  he  summed  up 
for  Emily  their  exact  situation : 

"  We're  all  alone,  partner — just  us.  A  fire 
panic  emptied  the  vessel — a  fire  which  the  mur- 
derers of  the  skipper  and  chief  mate  believed 
would  destroy  the  ship  and  the  evidence  of  their 
crimes.  The  ship's  laden  with  Australian  coals 
— a  treacherous  cargo.  Knowing  its  dangerous 
character,  it  is  easy  for  me  to  understand  what 
the  first  flash  of  smoke  meant  to  the  minds  of 
the  sort  of  gang  for'ard.  They  believed  the 
cargo  was  afire.  With  those  in  authoritv  plying 
them  with  fear  and  not  a  voice  to  steady  them, 
they  must  have  gone  over  the  side  like  rats. 
The  more  haste  that  marked  their  going  the 
better  were  the  plans  of  the  ringleaders  suited. 
I  cannot  help  believing  that  what  happened  aft 
was  known  to  only  a  few — the  second  mate  and 
perhaps  the  third.  Yet  how  was  it  explained  to 
those  outside  of  the  secret  of  the  assassinations 
• — the  absence  of  the  skipper  and  chief  mate! 
The  ringleaders  could  have  reported  them  as 
dead  without  explaining  what  had  killed  them. 
They  could  have  reported  them  to  have  killed 
156 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

each  other.  They  could  have  reported  them  as 
having  fallen  overboard.  They  could  have  told 
the  others  even  that  the  men  had  been  murdered, 
without  giving  any  proof  against  themselves. 
But  I  must  have  done  with  this  conjecturing. 
It  is  idle." 

Paul  put  down  his  empty  cup  with  impatience. 

"  But  where  could  they  have  gone?  "  Emily 
asked. 

"  Chi  risponde  presto,  sa  pooo.  That  is  as 
the  Italians  have  it:  Who  answers  suddenly 
knows  little.  The  fact  that  they  took  provisions 
and  the  three  boats  which  the  empty  chocks 
show  to  have  been  in  the  bark  seems  convincing 
that  they  did  not  flee  to  another  ship.  Perhaps 
they  believed  they  were  near  some  land." 

"  Maybe  another  island — a  trap  like  ours?    I 

looked   for    our   island — out   there It  is 

gone." 

Paul  nodded. 

"  But  these  things — these  sandals.  There 
was  a  woman " 

'  *  I  am  thinking  of  a  woman 's  presence  in  the 
mystery.  The  French  say  there  is  always  a 
woman. ' ' 

He  spoke  with  an  attempt  at  lightness  which 
he  was  far  from  feeling.  A  wince  of  unpleas- 
antness indicated  his  true  thoughts. 

157 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

"  Do  you  agree  with  the  French  adage?  ' 
Emily   asked.    An    enigmatical    smile    played 
across  her  face  as  she  put  the  question. 

11  There  is  always  one  woman — one  woman 
out  of  all  the  world,"  he  answered.  His  tone 
thrilled  her.  He  studied  her  for  a  second  mys- 
teriously. "  You  are  very  wonderful  to  me," 
he  added,  but  his  voice  was  so  low  that  it  seemed 
that  the  thought  back  of  it  forced  itself  to  un- 
conscious utterance.  She  met  his  gaze  frankly ; 
the  unconcealed  light  of  love  was  in  her  eyes. 

Paul  turned  away  from  her  abruptly  and  a 
chill  came  into  her  heart.  She  saw  the  old  ex- 
pression of  pain  in  his  face — the  expression  she 
had  beheld  there  the  day  she  had  seen  him  first 
in  the  steamship  agency  in  Yokohama.  It  al- 
ways came  so  unexpectedly. 

Looking  out  of  the  galley  door  to  windward, 
Paul  saw  a  clear  sky.  The  breeze  from  the 
southwest  held  steady  at  about  six  or  seven 
knots.  All  overhead  signs  promised  fine  weath- 
er, but  the  swell  was  ominous.  Still  all  the  in- 
dications were  that  it  was  the  aftermath  of  a 
storm  which  had  passed  far  to  the  westward. 

"  You're  the  chief  mate  of  the  Daphne  now," 
he  said,  facing  her  again,  "  and  it's  your  watch 
below.    You   slept  but   little  last  night,   you 
know. ' ' 
158 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

"  Last  night,"  she  said,  repeating  the  words 
with  a  shiver.  *  *  Nor  did  you  sleep. ' ' 

"  I  will  sleep  when  you  have  had  yours." 

"  But  I  want  to  be  with  you — to  help — all  I 
can." 

She  felt  that  even  sleep  must  not  be  permitted 
to  take  him  from  her  sight. 

"  You  will  help  best  by  obeying  orders,  little 
woman.  The  first  rule  of  the  sea  is  obedience. 
Come." 

Paul  started  aft  and  Emily  followed  him  in 
silence.  She  who  had  never  known  mastership 
in  her  life  went  whither  this  man  led  and  with 
no  thought  of  doing  otherwise.  He  handed  her 
up  on  the  poop  over  the  weather  gangway. 

It  was  an  exceptionally  long  quarter  deck  for 
a  vessel  of  the  Daphne's  size.  Abaft  the  miz- 
zenmast  and  the  saloon  skylights  stood  a  small 
teakwood  deck  house  comfortably  furnished  as 
a  sort  of  lounge.  It  was  lighted  by  four  large 
ports.  Through  the  center  of  this  house  the 
after  companionway  led  below.  On  each  fore 
and  aft  side  was  a  leather  cushioned  bench  or 
divan,  both  long  and  wide  enough  to  afford  good 
berths  on  which  to  steal  a  sleep  and  at  the  same 
time  remain  within  quick  access  of  the  deck. 
Against  the  forward  bulkhead  was  a  collapsible 
chart  table.  The  deck  entrance  opened  on  the 

159 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

steering  compass  and  the  wheel.  Running  for- 
ward on  each  side  of  the  vessel  from  the  break 
of  the  poop  to  the  forward  house  were  two  pipe- 
railed  bridges.  Similar  bridges  connected  the 
forward  house  with  the  forecastle  head.  One 
might  cover  the  length  of  the  ship  from  the  miz- 
zenmast  to  the  eyes  of  her  without  putting  a 
foot  on  the  main  deck.  Halfway  between  the 
mizzen-  and  mainmasts  the  bridges  were  con- 
nected by  a  platform  on  which  stood  the 
standard  compass. 

It  was  in  the  companionway  deck  house  or 
lounge,  as  the  castaways  came  to  call  it,  that 
Paul  spread  a  berth  for  Emily  with  some  blan- 
kets which  he  took  from  one  of  the  staterooms. 
Although  she  protested  that  she  would  find  it 
easy  to  remain  awake  if  she  could  drink  as  much 
coffee  as  he  had — that  she  really  wasn't  sleepy 
— her  head  had  hardly  touched  its  clean  white 
pillow  when  her  eyelids  closed  fast  in  a  deep 
slumber.  Sheer  will  power  had  been  keeping 
her  up. 

There  was  grim  work  ahead  of  Paul  Lavelle 
and  he  hurried  to  do  it.  It  must  be  finished 
when  Emily  awoke.  Before  entering  the  cabin, 
however,  he  went  forward  and  put  a  fire  under 
the  donkey  boiler.  Here  was  an  auxiliary  crew 
—this  engine — a  good  thirty  horsepower  at 
160 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

least.  Hope  mounted  in  his  breast  as  he  exam- 
ined it  and  found  it  in  first-class  condition.  For 
that  matter,  everything  about  the  Daphne  was 
strong  and  good.  She  had  been  "  kept  up  "  is 
the  way  Lavelle  would  have  described  her  to  * 
another  seaman. 

A  plan  of  action  which  he  had  been  formu- 
lating he  now  confirmed.  He  would  let  the 
Daphne  lie  along  hove  to  as  she  was  until  he 
could  fix  her  position  and  then,  from  that  point 
attempt  to  work  her,  with  Emily's  aid  and  the 
engine's,  into  a  frequented  track  of  vessels. 
Having  made  such  a  track,  he  would  hold  on 
there  the  while  he  did  his  best  to  make  the 
nearest  land.  If  what  the  bark's  log  said  were 
true  it  would  not  be  long,  the  gods  of  the  winds 
being  kind,  before  they  were  in  the  track  in 
which  the  Cambodia  had  been  lost. 

Thoroughly  this  man  realized  the  seriousness 
of  the  situation  which  confronted  him.  Before 
him  was  a  task  to  give  any  man  pause — a 
twelve-hundred-ton  bark  at  the  mercy  of  the 
sea  to  be  handled  by  himself,  a  woman,  and  a 
donkey  engine.  There  was  no  alternative  to 
the  plan  his  mind  had  outlined.  While  he  tested 
it  from  every  angle,  instinct  led  him  to  many 
necessary  small  tasks.  He  sounded  the  ship's 
well.  There  was  no  telling  how  much  water 

161 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

might  have  entered  her  through  the  open  fore 
hatch.  The  rod  came  back  as  dry  as  a  bleached 
bone.  It  had  not  even  rained  since  she  had  been 
abandoned.  This  suggested  examining  her 
fresh-water  supply.  He  sounded  these  tanks. 
They  held  a  supply  for  fifty  days  even  if  the 
bark  had  been  manned  by  her  full  complement. 
Besides,  the  donkey  engine  had  a  condenser  at- 
tachment for  its  own  purposes  and  also  for  ship 
use  in  the  event  of  a  shortage. 

Paul  Lavelle  had  never  been  aboard  a  handier 
vessel  than  the  Daphne.  John  McGavock  and 
her  young  chief  mate  must  have  been  very  proud 
of  her.  She  was  molded  on  clipper  lines.  In 
her  heyday  undoubtedly,  judging  from  the  size 
of  her  mizzenmast,  she  had  been  rigged  as  a 
ship.  That  day  had  been  when  the  taunt,  white- 
winged  tea  clippers  were  the  mail  carriers  and 
passenger  greyhounds  of  the  seas ;  and  the  men 
who  mastered  them  veritable  nabobs  of  the  deep. 
The  lounge  on  the  Daphne's  poop,  the  rich  India 
teak  and  mahogany  and  bird's-eye  maple  of  her 
commodious  saloons,  the  many  staterooms,  the 
appointments  of  her  large  galley  bespoke  her 
as  having  been  not  among  the  least  of  these 
fliers.  Certainly  she  must  have  been  a  flash 
packet  in  the  days  of  her  youth  when  she  could 
have  mustered  twenty-five  men  in  a  watch  to 
162 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

fist  a  topsail.  Paul  knew  that  vessels  like  this 
had  carried  tremendous  crews — sometimes  fifty, 
sixty,  and  seventy-five,  idlers  and  all — in  the 
days  of  their  pride  when  an  hour  cut  from  a 
passage  meant  gold  for  owners  and  masters. 
His  mother's  father  had  been  master  and  after- 
ward owner  of  such  ships  as  the  Daphne.  But 
he  had  sailed  them  under  a  different  flag  than 
hers — a  flag  which  had  driven  him,  the  grand- 
son, away  from  it  and  to  be  a  marked  wanderer. 

This  unpleasant  personal  thought  turned  La- 
velle  aft.  He  entered  the  cabin  through  the  door 
on  the  starboard  side.  Here  he  found  three 
more  staterooms,  which  opened  off  an  alleyway 
similar  to  the  one  on  the  opposite  side.  These 
rooms  had  been  long  given  up  to  storage  pur- 
poses. One  was  filled  with  barrels  of  flour  and 
biscuits;  the  others  held  cordage  and  bolts  of 
untouched  canvas.  He  carried  away  a  bolt  of 
the  newest,  whitest  duck  and  a  coil  of  marlin. 

No  tenderer  hands  could  have  given  the 
Daphne's  master  and  mate  to  the  sea;  no  voice 
could  have  bespoken  their  souls  a  kinder  jour- 
ney than  the  stranger  who  shrouded  and 
weighted  them.  He  sent  them  away  with  a 
prayer  and  a  heartfelt  farewell  that  a  friend 
who  had  known  them  and  loved  them  a  lifetime 
might  have  breathed. 

163 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

Paul  was  near  breaking  down  when  it  came 
to  the  parting  with  William  Elston.  Among  the 
papers  scattered  around  the  lad  he  found  the 
first  page  of  a  letter  which  the  boy  had  started 
to  his  mother  on  the  day  after  the  Daphne  had 
put  out  from  Sydney.  That  was  the  day  after 
Christmas. 

"  I'll  be  home  in  England — merry  England — 
with  you  next  Christmas,  mother  mine — 

That  was  as  much  as  he  could  read.  He  put 
the  crumpled  sheet  in  the  dead  boy's  hands 
where  he  had  already  folded  a  photograph  which 
had  hung  over  the  berth.  It  was  a  picture  of 
a  simple  vine-covered  cottage  such  as  are  to  be 
met  in  the  byways  of  villages  and  towns 
throughout  England.  Clusters  of  roses  peeped 
and  seemed  to  nod  over  a  hawthorn  hedge  in  the 
foreground.  A  collie  stood  at  the  gate,  head 
lifted,  ears  cocked,  and  muzzle  searching  the  dis- 
tance as  at  a  master's  coming.  On  the  back 
of  the  photograph  was  written  in  the  hand 
which  had  kept  the  log :  *  *  My  Sussex  Home. 

"'In  a  fair  ground — in  a  fair  ground — 
Yea,  Sussex  by  the  sea!'" 

"While  the  mystery  which  Paul  met  at  every 
turn  beckoned  him  on  in  pursuit  of  it,  he  was 
careful  to  guard  against  giving  any  time  except 
to  necessary  things.  He  was  compelled  to  give 
164 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

his  attention  to  the  donkey  boiler  and  galley 
fires  forward  as  well  as  keep  an  eye  on  the  sun's 
ascension  toward  noon.  The  Daphne's  position 
was  the  most  important  thing  to  be  ascertained. 
To  this  end  he  searched  high  and  low  for  a 
sextant.  The  mate 's  was  missing ;  the  skipper 's, 
too.  He  found  McGavock's  empty  case  in  a 
corner  of  the  chart  room,  where  it  had  been 
thrown  and  smashed.  A  mercurial  barometer 
lay  crushed  beside  it.  Nor  could  he  discover 
the  sailing  chart  of  the  bark's  present  voyage 
nor  any  other  chart  of  the  Pacific. 

Abaft  the  companion  way  staircase  he  came 
upon  a  room  which  had  escaped  his  attention 
before.  It  opened  upon  a  short  alleyway  into 
the  lazarette.  Here  were  stowed  the  ship's  slop 
stores.  A  door  on  the  left  hand,  as  one  went 
aft,  led  into  the  skipper's  room.  He  had  noticed 
it  when  he  had  returned  to  get  the  ulster  for 
Emily.  Immediately  opposite  was  the  entrance 
to  a  snug  bathroom. 

Paul  took  advantage  immediately  of  his  dis- 
covery of  the  slop  stores  to  levy  upon  them  for 
an  outfit  of  clothing  and  shoes.  When  he  had 
found  how  plentiful  was  the  vessel's  supply  of 
water  he  had  vanquished  the  dust  and  grime  of 
his  venture  into  the  fore  hold.  The  touch  of 
the  fresh  clothing,  rough  though  it  was,  was 

165 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

pleasant.    It  was  a  link  with  the  world  again. 

The  while  he  dressed  in  the  bathroom  he  ob- 
served many  things  which  told  of  a  woman's 
presence — articles  of  the  toilet  too  fine  and 
dainty  for  a  man's  use.  A  leather  traveling 
dressing  case  lay  on  a  small  stand.  It  contained 
a  silver-mounted  assortment  of  brushes  and 
screw-top  bottles.  He  paused  to  examine  them 
for  a  marking.  There  was  none  but  the  English 
Sterling  impression.  Another  thing  which  indi- 
cated to  him  that  this  room  had  known  a  wom- 
an's presence  was  a  tiny  fern  basket  which 
swung  over  the  bath.  Similar  baskets  hung  in 
the  skylight  of  each  saloon  and  from  the  ceiling 
in  the  skipper's  room.  These  meant  a  wom- 
an's watchfulness  and  tender  care.  Men  who 
live  and  die  by  the  sea  know  no  green-growing 
things ;  no  flowers.  The  sea  gives  no  flowers  to 
its  children;  no  sweet  odors  for  memory.  It 
has  gardens,  but  they  are  scentless  and  one  may 
enter  them  only  when  life  is  done.  So  perhaps 
it  is  just  as  well  that  its  flora  is  without  fra- 
grance. 

At  one  moment  Paul  was  convinced  that  a 
woman  had  been  in  the  Daphne  but  recently: 
the  next  he  doubted  it.  He  did  not  wish  to  think 
that  she  had  been  carried  off  in  those  small 
boats.  The  thought  sickened  him. 
166 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

Pie  crossed  from  the  bath  into  the  skipper's 
room  again,  hoping  that  he  might  have  over- 
looked there  some  place  where  a  sextant  or 
quadrant  might  be  stored.  Alongside  the  desk 
he  spied  a  silver  frame.  It  contained  the  photo- 
graph of  a  laughing,  blonde-headed  girl  of  not 
more  than  two  and  twenty — an  wholesome  Eng- 
lish type  of  face;  just  such  a  woman  as  he  im- 
agined a  man  like  McGavock  would  go  a-wooing 
and  take  to  wife.  He  regretted  that  he  had 
not  found  it  sooner.  John  McGavock  might 
have  wished  to  take  it  with  him.  Paul  set  it  on 
top  of  the  desk  again,  from  which  it  had  evi- 
dently been  knocked,  and  turned  away  cudgel- 
ing his  brain  to  suggest  where  he  might  carry 
his  search.  His  glance  picked  up  a  knobless 
door  in  the  bulkhead  to  the  right  of  the  desk. 
He  dimly  remembered  noticing  it  when  he  had 
taken  the  mackintosh  and  of  fixing  it  in  his  mind 
at  the  time  as  the  vessel's  medicine  chest.  It 
was  fastened  with  a  spring  lock.  He  stepped 
back  from  it,  hesitated  a  second,  and  with  a 
heave  of  his  shoulder  burst  it  in. 

An  odorous  wave  of  English  lavender  rolled 
out  upon  him.  The  man  closed  his  eyes  and 
inhaled  the  sweet  freshness  with  a  lingering 
breath.  It  conjured  memories  of  mother,  sister, 
home,  boyhood — all  the  tender  recollections  of 

167 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

the  days  which  had  known  no  clouds;  no  bit- 
ternesses. 

The  room  which  the  door  revealed  was  half 
filled  with  a  woman's  skirts  and  gowns  and 
coats  hanging  in  order  from  the  beams  over- 
head. Along  a  shelf  against  the  forward  side 
stood  a  neat  row  of  six  or  seven  pairs  of  shoes 
and  slippers.  The  drooping  tops  of  some  of 
them  suggested  little  soldiers  grown  tired  of 
marching.  The  invader  felt  as  if  he  had  broken 
into  a  holy  place.  A  cedar-wood  chest  stood 
open  on  his  left.  On  top  of  a  filmy  heap  of 
woman's  things  lay  a  Leghorn  straw,  trimmed 
with  a  wreath  of  faded  red  silk  roses.  Across 
the  hat  was  a  baby's  dainty  underslip. 

Turning  away  from  the  chest  with  a  pang 
in  his  heart  and  a  tightening  at  the  throat 
latch  his  eyes  found  the  object  of  his  search. 
A  sextant  lay  on  top  of  the  medicine  chest  which 
was  built  into  the  vessel's  side.  As  he  picked 
it  up  eagerly  and  examined  it,  he  discovered  two 
new  chart  pipes  standing  in  the  corner.  In  one 
of  these  was  a  new  Admiralty  chart  of  the  North 
and  South  Pacific  Oceans. 

Carrying  the  pipes  and  the  sextant,  Paul  La- 
velle  backed  out  of  the  little  room,  and  as  he 
went  he  could  not  help  feeling  that  he  had  vio- 
lated a  shrine. 
168 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

WAENED  of  a  sudden  that  the  sun  was  near  the 
zenith,  Paul  hastened  from  the  engine  room  aft. 
Although  he  tried  to  go  softly  when  he  reached 
the  poop  for  fear  of  waking  Emily  he  could  not 
control  the  heels  nor  the  squeaking  of  his  new 
slop  chest  shoes.  He  heard  her  calling  him 
before  he  was  halfway  to  the  wheel. 

As  he  appeared  in  the  lounge  door  she  sat  up 
in  dumb  fear.  For  the  moment  she  did  not  rec- 
ognize him  in  the  rough  blue  shirt  and  corduroys 
and  strange  cap  into  which  he  had  changed. 

"  It's  I,"  he  said,  removing  his  cap  with  a 
smile. 

"  Oh,  Paul — Paul,"  she  sobbed  hysterically 
and  covering  her  face  as  if  to  shut  something 
unpleasant  away  from  her.  "  I — I  have  had 
such — such  a  horrible  dream.  I " 

11  There,  there,"  he  said  comfortingly  and 
going  in  to  her.  She  caught  hold  of  his  hand. 
"  Everything's  going  to  come  out  all  right. 
You  know  you've  been  through  an  awful  drive. 

If I'm  sorry  I  woke  you.  Try  to  go  back 

to  sleep  for  another  hour. ' ' 

"  I  couldn't — I  couldn't.  I  was  dreaming 

169 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

that — that  you  were  out  there  in  the  sea  and 
that  the  ship  was  falling  on  you — pressing  you 
down,  down,  down!  It  isn't  true!  It  isn't 
true!" 

Her  voice  rose  nearly  to  a  shriek  in  her  effort 
to  reassure  herself.  He  had  won  to  his  old 
control  of  himself. 

"  No,  no,  it  isn't  true.  Now  listen:  We're 
playing  a  big,  big  game  here.  You're  my  part- 
ner. The  only  one  I  can  depend  on " 

"  Forgive  me — I  don't  mean  to  be  selfish  or 
thoughtless  or  whimpery — or  the  clinging-vine 
sort.'* 

"  It's  all  right.  All  right,  partner.  It's  a 
wonder  you've  a  nerve  left.  There  are  mighty 
few  men  who  could  have  come  through  what  you 
have  and  not  be  folded  up  now.  But  I  want  you 
to  think  of  this  game.  It's  so  big,  so  big,  that 
it's  worth  winning!  "  His  tone,  his  expression, 
brought  a  smile  of  interest  into  her  face.  "  If 
you  think  you  can't  sleep  I  want  you  to  go  down 
below  and  get  into  a  heavy  shirt  like  mine — the 
strongest,  heaviest  clothes  you  can  find.  I've 
pulled  a  lot  out  of  the  slop  chest — socks  and 
things.  Then,  there's  a  little  room — you'll  find 
it  in  a  corner  of  the  skipper's.  It's  filled  with 
a  lot  of  woman's  things.  There's  a  cedar- wood 

chest You  will  know  what  to  take. ' ' 

170 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

"  A  woman's  things?    There  was  a — 

'  *  All  I  can  say  is  that  the  Daphne  has  known 
a  woman's  presence.  When  she  was  here — what 
has  become  of  her — God  knows." 

*'  Before  I  slept  I  said  a  prayer  for  her.  And 
every  time  I  lie  down  to  rest  I  will  pray  for  her 
safety." 

Emily  stood  up,  but  she  hesitated  as  she 
started  to  descend  the  companionway. 

"  It's  all  right.  There  is  nobody  down  there 
now.  "We're  absolutely  alone,"  Paul  said, 
noting  her  trepidation.  ' '  '  Home  is  the  sailor, 
home  from  the  sea,  And  the  hunter  home  from 
the  hill.'  " 

Peace  came  to  her  spirit  at  the  gentleness 
of  his  words  and  she  went  below  unafraid. 

By  the  noon  sights  which  the  Daphne's  new 
master  got  he  fixed  her  position  as  Latitude 
33:18  north;  Longitude,  177:20  east.  It  as- 
tounded him.  He  worked  his  calculations  over 
and  over  again  according  to  a  half-dozen  differ- 
ent formulae.  The  result  was  the  same,  except 
for  an  unappreciable  difference  in  longitude. 
So  he  made  it  12  o'clock,  setting  the  local  time 
by  an  old-fashioned  silver  watch  which  he  had 
discovered  under  the  pillow  in  Elston's  berth. 

Assuming  the  correctness  of  his  reckoning, 
the  Daphne  was  approximately  two  hundred 

171 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

miles  north  and  west  of  where  the  Cambodia  had 
gone  down.  In  the  light  of  this  he  had  to  accept 
it  as  a  fact  that  the  island  had  drifted  across 
the  steamship  lane.  On  the  29th  the  Daphne 
had  been  in  Latitude  32 : 30  and  Longitude 
176 : 28.  He  visualized  that  day  on  the  island. 
There  had  been  a  light  breeze  from  sunrise  to 
sunset  out  of  the  northeast.  With  the  going 
down  of  the  sun  it  had  begun  to  veer  through 
the  north  until  it  brought  out  of  the  southwest. 
Hove  to  on  the  port  tack,  the  bark  must  have 
followed  the  hauling  breeze  until  she  had  cir- 
cled the  island  and  then  drifted  up  on  it  with 
the.  swell.  It  was  the  only  satisfactory  solution 
of  which  Paul  could  think. 

There  came  to  him  now,  with  redoubled  force, 
a  thought  which  had  formed  in  the  instant  he 
had  read  in  the  log  the  port  of  the  vessel's  de- 
parture and  her  destination :  '  *  What  can  have 
caused  a  ship  bound  from  Sydney,  New  South 
Wales,  toward  San  Francisco,  to  be  steered  so 
far  to  the  westward?  " 

He  was  compelled  to  turn  from  the  puzzle  and 
admit  that  he  was  baffled. 

During  the  half -hour  preceding  noon  the  swell 
had  gone  down  considerably.  The  breeze  still 
continued  steady  from  the  southwest.  An 
aneroid  barometer  which  he  had  discovered  in 
172 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

the  lounge,  when  he  had  spread  Emily's  berth 
there,  stood  at  an  ordinary  normal  height.  So 
he  decided  to  hold  on  as  the  bark  lay  until  after 
luncheon,  then  get  under  way,  run  before  the 
wind  for  two  hours,  and  take  another  altitude. 

As  Paul  turned  away  from  the  barometer 
hanging  over  the  chart  table,  Emily  came  up 
through  the  companionway.  She  wore  a  heavy 
blue  flannel  shirt  such  as  he  had  told  her  to 
put  on  and  a  blue  walking  skirt  which  came  to 
the  tops  of  a  pair  of  tan  tennis  shoes.  She  had 
plaited  her  hair  again  and  wound  it  round  her 
head  like  a  crown.  The  shirt  was  unbuttoned  at 
the  throat,  the  cuffs  rolled  back.  She  presented 
a  figure  of  beautiful,  efficient  womanhood 
where  she  paused  at  the  head  of  the  companion- 
way,  her  arms  half  raised  as  if  seeking  Paul's 
approbation.  Never  since  the  first  day  he  had 
seen  her  had  she  seemed  so  strongly  femi- 
nine. 

"  You  are  the '  There  he  broke  an  ex- 
clamation. He  halted  in  the  step  which  he  had 
taken  toward  her.  Emily  waited,  her  eyes  half 
lowered.  "When  his  voice  broke  she  looked  up 
in  surprise.  She  was  pale,  despite  the  soft  tan. 
with  which  exposure  had  dusted  her  face  and 
throat.  With  an  embarrassed  laugh  Paul  went 
on:  "  You  would  make  gunny  cloth  seem  like 

173 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

the  finest  silk.  Never  ship  sailed  the  seas  with 
such  a  chief  mate." 

It  was  a  disingenuous,  awkward  speech.  Ill 
at  ease  he  hurried  on  to  tell  her  of  the  Daphne's 
position  by  the  observations  he  had  just  made; 
of  the  plans  he  had  formed.  All  the  while  he 
talked,  a  thought,  which  had  been  with  him 
ever  since  the  moment  of  madness  in  the  galley 
and  which  had  lashed  him  all  through  the  morn- 
ing, sprinkled  salt  on  the  wounds  in  his  con- 
science. 

"  I  felt  as  if  I  were  committing  a  sacrilege 
when  I  went  into  the  little  room  where  the  cedar 
chest  is,"  Emily  told  him  as  they  went  forward 
to  prepare  luncheon.  "  The  chest  is  filled  with 
a  girl 's  wedding  things.  The  hat — the  baby  slip 
—I  laid  them  away  carefully  and  shut  the  lid 
on  them." 

She  looked  at  the  sea  with  a  shudder.  Paul 
noticed  this  and  realized  that  he  must  fight,  too, 
to  keep  his  companion's  mind  on  pleasant 
things.  He  quickly  directed  her  thoughts  to  the 
future,  explaining  the  division  of  labor  that 
must  be  theirs  and  the  vigilance  they  must  keep 
to  win  a  triumph  of  the  sea.  Her  interest  was 
enlisted  more  easily  than  he  imagined  it  would 
be,  for  her  thoughts  were  busy  with  a  future 
which  was  calling  her  in  all  the  beauty  of  life. 
.174 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

Emily  insisted  upon  preparing  the  luncheon, 
permitting  Paul  only  to  shake  up  the  fire.  She 
did  it  well  and,  the  while  she  was  about  it,  he 
took  the  opportunity  to  reexamine  the  Daphne's 
log.  He  hoped  to  glean  from  it  some  things 
which  might  aid  him  in  the  navigation  of  the 
bark.  It  served,  however,  only  to  deepen  the 
mystery. 

It  was  a  clean  record  of  routine  for  two  weeks 
after  the  departure  from  Sydney.  The  crew 
had  been  received  aboard  on  Christmas  night. 
It  was  not  hard  to  visualize  the  condition  of  the 
lot  on  such  a  day — the  sorriest  day  in  the  year 
for  an  outward-bound.  The  following  morning 
she  had  sailed — three  months  and  eight  days 
gone,  or,  as  Elston  had  written  at  noon  of  the 
29th:  "  Our  96th  day  at  sea  from  Sydney." 
This  was  the  98th  day. 

The  first  thing  to  seize  Paul's  professional 
eye  importantly  was  the  absence  of  any  designa- 
tion of  second  or  third  mate.  If  the  Daphne  had 
sailed  without  these  officers  then  they  must  have 
been  recruited  afterward  from  the  forecastle 
gang.  There  was  no  telling  from  the  names  of 
the  sixteen  members  of  the  crew  who  these 
might  have  been.  The  list  comprehended  every 
nationality  under  the  sun. 

At  the  end  of  the  first  two  weeks  three  pages 

175 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

had  been  torn  from  the  book.  A  week  later  an- 
other page  was  missing.  There  was  not  a  week 
of  the  entire  ninety-six  days  up  to  the  hour  of 
abandonment  which  was  complete.  Of  course, 
it  was  plain  to  Lavelle  that  the  man  or  men 
who  had  defaced  the  book  had  done  so  to  de- 
stroy something  that  had  been  written  against 
him  or  them. 

"  But  why  not  have  hove  the  book  overboard 
and  been  done  with  it?  "  Paul  asked  himself. 
He  could  not  answer  the  question. 

The  Daphne  had  spoken  no  other  vessels; 
sighted  no  sail  so  far  as  the  log  disclosed.  Fair 
weather  had  attended  her  to  the  equator,  which 
she  had  crossed  on  the  fiftieth  day  out  with 
a  proper  easting — Longitude  119  west.  This 
was  in  the  track  made  by  sailing  vessels  bound 
from  Australia  to  the  west  coast  of  the  United 
States.  Then  had  followed  calms  until  she  had 
fallen  in  with  the  northeast  trades  in  Latitude  8 
north,  but  there  was  no  word  to  explain  why 
she  thereafterward  had  been  steered  into  this 
western  sea  more  than  two  thousand  miles  off 
the  course  she  should  have  held ! 

Emily's  summons  to  luncheon  made  Paul  lay 
aside  the  log.  It  was  a  surprisingly  good  and 
substantial  meal,  that  she  had  whipped  together. 
While  they  ate  Paul  undertook  the  gold  wom- 
176 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

an's  drilling  in  the  details  of  working  a  ship. 
On  the  island  he  and  Chang  had  filled  in  many 
a  dreary  minute  with  talk  of  ships.  Chang  had 
taught  her  how  to  box  the  compass,  and  she 
was  proud  now,  indeed,  to  exhibit  this  knowl- 
edge— eager  to  put  it  to  use.  Her  experience 
in  the  boat  had  taught  her  much,  too.  She  sur- 
prised Paul  and  made  him  proud  of  the  intelli- 
gence with  which  she  was  able  to  comprehend 
his  explanations. 

"  You're  bully!  "  he  exclaimed  finally  in  ad- 
miration. "  You're  a  woman  with  an  efficient 
brain." 

This  little  speech  made  Emily  glow  with  hap- 
piness. She  had  had  many  a  pretty  compli- 
ment addressed  to  her  by  artists  at  that  game, 
but  never  one  which  gave  her  this  pleasure. 
Somehow  she  felt  that  thus  he  would  have 
spoken  to  another  man  whose  work  he  wished 
to  praise.  She  understood  that  Paul  Lavelle 
held  order  and  efficiency  above  everything  else. 
She  was  efficient  in  his  sight.  She  fairly  ran 
when  he  gave  her  the  word  to  go  aft  and  stand 
by  the  wheel. 

The  donkey  boiler  had  made  a  full  head  of 
steam  half  an  hour  before.  Now  Paul  started 
the  engine  which  was  connected  with  two  hoist- 
ing drums  protruding  from  each  side  of  the 

177 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

forward  house.  He  hoisted  and  hauled  with 
these  drums — set  an  additional  headsail,  and 
hauled  his  main  yards  round.  Within  ten  min- 
utes he  had  the  Daphne  bearing  away  to  the 
northward  with  the  wind  over  her  port  quarter. 
He  ran  aft  and  by  hand  swayed  up  the  peak 
of  the  spanker  as  best  he  could.  Next  he  set 
the  patent  log  which  was  trailing  over  the  stern. 

Pausing  to  note  the  effect  of  the  spanker  he 
there  and  then  stored  in  his  memory  the  fact 
that  with  the  peak  down  and  a  slight  lee  helm 
the  Daphne,  with  the  canvas  she  was  now  carry- 
ing, would  practically  take  care  of  herself  hove 
to  in  a  light  breeze. 

When  he  looked  over  Emily's  shoulder  at 
the  compass  he  could  hear  her  heart  beating 
wildly. 

"  How  are  you  heading?  "  he  asked  with  a 
slight  brusqueness. 

11  Northeast  by  north,  half  north,"  she  an- 
swered accurately  and  with  a  sharp  intake  of 
the  breath. 

"  Keep  her  so." 

All  the  gold  woman  could  do  was  nod  that 
she  heard.  The  power  of  speech  seemed  to 
have  gone  from  her.  Awe  of  the  big  fabric  of 
iron  and  canvas  and  web  upon  web  of  ropes 
and  gear  obeying  the  impulse  of  her  small  hands 
178 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

was  upon  her.  It  was  a  big  game.  It  was  a 
terrific,  intoxicating,  joyous  sensation.  She 
bad  but  one  distinct  thought:  That  was  to  go 
sailing  on  in  the  Daphne — just  she  and  this  man 
alone — forever  and  ever.  All  the  years  of  her 
past  faded  away — the  moment  obliterated  their 
insignificance.  Her  eyes,  alight  with  love,  went 
seeking  the  man's  face  and  found  him  turned 
away  from  her,  entering  the  lounge. 

"  Rouse  me  at  the  slightest  weather  change 
— in  two  hours  anyway,"  he  called  from  within. 

"  I  will,"  she  managed  to  answer  in  a  voice 
that  seemed  to  belong  to  somebody  else.  She 
was  trembling  from  head  to  foot  with  wonder — 
wonder  of  new  strange  forces  clamoring 
through  her  being.  The  one  thought  which  her 
comprehension  dragged  out  of  the  riot  and  held 
was  that  this  man  through  whom  and  by  whom 
she  lived  trusted  her  so  that  he  was  lying  down 
to  sleep  in  her  keeping ;  that  he  was  depending 
upon  her.  Her  woman's  soul  cried  out  in  the 
pride  of  possession. 


179 


CHAPTER  XXV 

A  VIOLENT  ringing  of  the  ship's  bell  and 
Emily  calling  him  in  a  voice  fraught  with  ex- 
citement aroused  Paul.  For  a  second  he  im- 
agined he  was  still  dreaming. 

"Paul!    Paul!    Quick!  " 

He  sprang  out  on  deck. 

"  Oh!  "  Emily  gasped  in  relief.  "  I  thought 
you  would  never  wake.  But  look!  "  She 
pointed  forward.  "A  boat's  there!  Bight 
ahead !  A  man There !  ' 

Eubbing  his  sleep-bewildered  eyelids,  Paul 
made  out  a  small  white  boat  a  point  off  the 
Daphne's  weather  bow  and  not  more  than  five 
ship's  lengths  away.  Yes,  a  man  was  standing 
up  in  it.  He  was  beckoning  wildly  to  the  bark 
and  to  the  sky  in  turn. 

The  boat  was  too  far  off  to  make  out  if  the 
man  were  alone  in  it.  Paul  had  to  depend  on 
his  sight.  The  bark  had  been  robbed  of  her 
glasses. 

The  Daphne  was  making  about  three  knots 
an  hour.  While  he  had  slept  the  breeze  had 
lessened.  The  swell  was  practically  gone. 

"  Haul  her  up  three  points,"  said  Paul, 
180 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

facing  the  wheel.  ' '  Keep  an  eye  on  me.  Every 
time  I  raise  my  right  hand  let  her  go  off  half 
a  point.  When  I  hold  up  my  left :  Haul  up  half 
a  point— luff!  " 

With  this  instruction  snapped  at  Emily,  Paul 
ran  forward,  leaving  her  alone,  bewildered, 
fearful  of  making  a  mistake.  But  he  was  satis- 
fied she  would  understand.  He  held  responsi- 
bility to  be  as  much  the  mother  of  capacity  as 
necessity  is  of  invention. 

By  instinct  alone  Emily  interpreted  Paul's 
orders.  She  brought  the  Daphne  to  windward 
and  until  she  could  see  the  boat  and  its  pas- 
senger's head  just  over  the  lee  bow.  She  saw 
Paul  spring  into  the  fore  shrouds  with  a  coil 
of  rope.  As  he  did  so  he  raised  his  left  hand. 
The  boat  disappeared.  She  was  sure  the 
Daphne  would  run  it  down.  Paul  raised  his 
right  hand.  The  helmswoman  let  the  bark  go 
off  half  a  point. 

Paul,  leaning  over  the  rail  at  his  last  signal, 
tried  to  read  a  name  on  the  stern  of  the  little 
boat  which  came  bobbing  toward  him.  He 
failed. 

An  old  man  was  standing  up  between  the 
cockleshell's  after  and  second  thwarts.  He  was 
babbling  in  delirium.  His  swollen  tongue  was 
protruding  from  his  lips.  He  was  bareheaded 

181 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

and  his  hairless  crown  seemed  ready  to  burst 
open  in  fire.  Now  the  boat  was  close  enough 
to  see  that  the  derelict  was  alone.  His  cloth- 
ing consisted  of  a  shirt  and  trousers — dun- 
garees. He  answered  Paul's  hails  with  a  leer 
of  idiocy. 

Emily  steered  so  finely  that  the  Daphne 
brought  the  boat  alongside  just  abreast  of  the 
fore-rigging.  As  their  sides  touched,  Paul 
dropped  a  running  bowline  over  the  old  man's 
head  and  shoulders  and  a  minute  later  hauled 
him  over  the  side.  The  boat  overturned  as  its 
occupant  was  jerked  out  of  it  and  Paul  regret- 
fully saw  it  drift  away. 

The  derelict  crumpled  in  a  heap  at  his  res- 
cuer's feet  as  he  touched  the  deck.  His  face 
and  neck  and  arms  and  feet  were  horribly  sun- 
burned. He  was  literally  parboiled.  It  would 
have  taken  the  woman  who  mothered  him  to 
recognize  his  pitiably  swollen  countenance.  He 
was  short  and  thick- set  and  between  fifty-five 
and  sixty  years  old.  His  horny  nails  and  blunt 
work-worn  fingers  bespoke  him  a  sailor. 

Paul  carried  him  up  on  the  poop  as  the  best 
place  to  work  over  him  and  laid  him  down  in 
the  lee  of  the  lounge  house. 

'  *  Oh,  you  poor,  poor  man !  ' '  Emily  cried  in 
sympathy  at  sight  of  him. 
182 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

"  This  is  terrible,  little  woman.  I'm  afraid 
we  can  do  little  for  him." 

Paul  looked  away  from  the  stranger  with  a 
shudder.  While  he  had  been  forward  at  the 
rescue  and  carrying  the  stranger  aft  the  breeze 
had  died  away.  All  aloft  was  now  idle. 

"  Can't    I    leave    here    and    help    you!  ' 
asked    Emily.     "  We   must    try    to    save    his 
life." 

"  It's  a  mighty  unpleasant  task  for  you." 

"  Don't  think  of  me  as  being  helpless,  Paul. 
Please.  I  know  I  can  do  so  many  things.  I'm 
not  the  same  woman  you  met  back  there." 

She  looked  away  to  the  westward  as  she 
spoke. 

* '  Come,  then. ' '    He  put  the  wheel  in  beckets. 

11  Forward Get   some  water  out   of  the 

galley." 

Emily  ran  to  do  as  she  was  bidden  and  Paul 
went  below  to  the  medicine  chest.  The  medical 
•supplies  provided  some  strychnine  tablets  and, 
tincturing  a  glass  of  water  with  this  heart  stim- 
ulant, the  castaways  took  turn  about  forcing 
drops  of  the  fluid  between  the  cracked  lips. 
Emily  discovered  a  jar  of  beef  extract  among 
the  stores  and  made  up  a  little  of  this  for  the 
sufferer. 

After  two  hours  of  careful  and  unceasing  at- 

183 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

tention  the  derelict  opened  his  rheumy  eyes  and 
stared  at  the  sky  for  a  second. 

"  Hello,  stranger,"  said  Paul.  "  Feeling 
better?  " 

The  eyes  closed  again  and  the  cracked  lips 
muttered  an  inaudible  blur  of  words.  It  was 
plainly  an  unconscious  answer. 

A  little  while  later,  as  Paul  was  taking  an- 
other observation  of  the  sun,  Emily  thought 
she  saw  a  gleam  of  consciousness  in  the  faded 
gaze  which  found  her  face  and  held  it. 

11  Are  you  from  the  bark  Daphne — the 
Daphne?  "  she  asked. 

Both  she  and  Paul  had  discussed  the  possi- 
bility of  this  being  so. 

"  He — walked — 'tween — gyves " 

This  was  the  strange  whispered  utterance 
that  came  from  the  cracked  lips. 

"  Paul,  he  is  speaking." 

Lavelle  laid  down'  his  sextant  and  knelt  be- 
side the  stranger. 

11  I  asked  him,"  the  gold  woman  explained, 
"  if  he  belonged  to  the  Daphne.  He Lis- 
ten  " 

The  cracked  lips  were  speaking  again. 

"  He — walked — 'tween — 'tween     with — with 

gyves " 

184 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

The  stranger  was  repeating  what  he  had  said 
to  Emily. 

Paul  ran  the  words  over  under  his  breath. 
They  sounded  familiar.  They  had  a  rhythm 
that  touched  some  cell  of  memory.  Suddenly 
his  mind  groped  upon  discovery.  Emily  ut- 
tered an  exclamation  in  the  same  instant.  Both 
of  them  knew  what  the  stranger  was  attempt- 
ing to  say. 

"  Don't  you  remember  Hood's  '  The  Dream 
of  Eugene  Aram,'  Paul?  " 

"  Yes,"  he  said  with  a  nod.  "  '  And  Eugene 
Aram  walked  between,  with  gyves  upon  his 
wrists.'  " 

The  line,  as  he  repeated  it,  had  a  startling 
weirdness. 

"  What  can  the  poor  brain  be  thinking! 
What  is  hidden  back  of  this  strange  thought?  " 
Emily  asked  in  a  whisper. 

"  It  may  be  as  we  have  thought — that  he 
belongs  to  the  Daphne's  crew.  Perhaps  in  its 
disorder  his  brain  is  reflecting  the  crime  com- 
mitted aboard  here  in  the  words  of  Hood's 
poem.  Yet  one  would  imagine  that  if  there  is 
anything  in  the  theory  of  crime  suggesting 
crime  that  it  would  be  something  of  the  sea  of 
which  h&  would  be  thinking.  Eugene  Aram  was 
a  schoolmaster  and  he  killed  in  the  woods.  This 

185 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

man  is  a  sailor.    There  is  no  doubt  about  that." 

"  Could  he  have  been  the  one " 

Emily  shrank  from  the  stranger  at  the 
thought  which  leaped  into  her  mind. 

"  Don't  think  that,  Emily.    If  he  had  a  hand 

in  what  happened  here But  let  us  not  think 

of  what's  past." 

Paul  carried  the  derelict  below  and  put  him 
in  the  room  next  to  the  mate's.  He  swathed  his 
burns  in  carron  oil  and  tied  him  in  the  bunk 
so  that  the  rolling  of  the  vessel  would  not  turn 
him  out.  The  man  had  become  unconscious 
again  immediately  after  mumbling  the  bit  of 
"  Eugene  Aram  "  which  Emily  had  called  Paul 
to  hear.  Lavelle  left  the  derelict  sleeping  in 
apparent  peace,  but  with  a  heart  action  that 
was  extremely  weak. 

"If  he  lives  he  will  be  a  Godsend  toward 
helping  us  work  ship,"  Paul  told  Emily  as  they 
went  aft  together  to  the  lounge. 

"  May  be  that  is  why  it  was  given  to  us  to 
pick  him  up. ' ' 

Paul  smiled  doubtfully. 

11  What  time  is  it,  Emily?  "  he  asked. 

"  Only  quarter  past  three,"  she  said,  looking 
at  the  silver  watch  which  he  had  given  her  to 
carry  when  he  put  her  at  the  wheel. 

"  Didn't  have  much  of  a  sleepy  did  I!  " 
186 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

"  No,  you  didn't.    Please  lie  down  again." 

"  Will  in  a  little  while.  Got  to.  But  first 
I  must  work  out  this  observation — see  where 
in  this  world  or  Kingdom  Come  we  are." 

He  sat  down  at  the  chart  table  and  in  a  few 
minutes,  weary  though  he  was,  finished  his  cal- 
culations. The  result  checked  and  confirmed  his 
noon  reckoning. 

Emily  stood  beside  him  holding  down  the 
edges  of  the  chart  while  he  pricked  off  the 
Daphne's  position  and  ran  a  line  to  the  south- 
eastward. It  ended  at  Ocean  Island.  He  ran 
a  second  to  Midway ;  a  third  to  Honolulu.  The 
woman  watched  his  long  fine  fingers — won- 
drously  fine  for  the  rough,  hard  things  of  which 
she  knew  them  to  be  capable — handling  pencil 
and  ruler  and  dividers  with  a  fascinating  deft- 
ness and  certainty.  He  seemed  oblivious  of 
everything  else.  An  eager  stimulation  seemed 
to  be  driving  him.  The  mystery  of  the  student 
was  about  him.  A  feeling  of  woful  incom- 
petence possessed  her.  She  realized  how  nar- 
row and  little  her  life  had  always  been  until 
now;  how  little  she  actually  knew  of  all  the 
things  there  were  to  be  known.  Her  heart 
stirred  of  a  sudden  with  a  marvelous  thrill  at 
the  thought  of  what  a  woman's  triumph  must 
be  to  suffer  the  giving  of  such  a  man  as  this 

187 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

to  the  world.  Her  breath  paused  tremulously. 
What  Shanghai  Elsie  had  said  to  her  in  the 
boat  flashed  into  her  mind:  "  You  were  made 
for  the  mother  of  men — strong  men — like 
him." 

The  navigator,  glancing  up  from  his  work, 
beheld  an  expression  in  her  beautiful  face  which 
was  beyond  his  understanding.  Her  glance 
dropped  as  it  met  his  and  a  glow  suffused  her 
cheeks  and  thin,  delicate  ears  that  the  dawn 
might  have  envied.  A  second  later  her  eyes 
lifted  to  his  again  and  in  their  expression  and 
her  smile  he  read  elation.  In  his  blindness  he 
believed  that  she  had  been  able  to  follow  his 
work  and  that  it  was  the  prospect  of  an  early 
deliverance  which  enlightened  her  countenance. 

"  There  you  are!  "  he  exclaimed  in  a  note 
of  lively  and  natural  pleasure.  '  *  Look !  Only 

five  hundred  miles  to  the  southeast See 

that  speck?  That's  Ocean  Island.  If  we  can't 
fetch  that  we'll  try  for  Midway.  A  cable  sta- 
tion's there.  If  we  can't  make  any  of  these 
islands  we'll  keep  right  on  to  Honolulu.  All 
the  while  we'll  be  lying  along  in  the  steamship 
track.  Isn't  it  wonderful,  eh?  " 

'  *  Too  wonderful  to  be  true,  Paul. ' ' 

The  answer  came  in  a  whisper.  Tears  glinted 
in  her  eyes.  She  was  glad  for  his  sake;  glad 
188 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

that  the  stress  which  was  upon  him  was  so 
near  an  end.  His  escape,  of  course,  meant  hers 

and Intuitively  she  sensed  that  he  was 

very  far  away  from  her;  that  he  was  slipping 
further  and  further  away  and  she  started  to 
put  out  a  hand  to  touch  him ;  to  hold  him.  Her 
arm  dropped  as  she  raised  it.  This  was  not 
the  man  who  had  held  her  in  his  arms  that 
morning.  She  heard  his  words  dimly. 

"  If  we  can  work  to  the  south 'ard  and  the 
eastward,  by  to-morrow  noon  we  may  begin  to 
keep  our  eyes  open  for  ships.  With  any  kind 
of  fair  weather  and  a  breeze  from  the  westward 
land  should  be  rising  over  the  bows  in  three 
or  four  days.  Think  of  it!  Another  twelve 
hours  and  you  may  be  going  over  the  Daphne's 
side  into  a  homeward  bounder !  ' ' 

Emily's  eyes  overflowed.  He  winced  at  the 
tears. 

"  Why You  mustn't  be  crying  now. 

You  must  laugh!  Sing!  The  chief  mate  of 
the  bark  Daphne  would  better  be  thinking  of 
her  shore-going  togs!  This  is  what  we'll  be 
singing  in  a  very  short  time : 

"  I  thought  I  heard  the  captain  say, 

Leave  her,  Johnny,  leave  her; 
You  may  go  ashore  and  touch  your  pay, 
It's  time  for  us  to  leave  her. 

189 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

"We'll  sing,  Oh,  may  we  never  be, 

Leave  her,  Johnny,  leave  her; 

On  a  hungry  ship  the  like  of  she, 

//'*  time  for  u»  to  leave  her. " 

With  a  laugh  and  those  snatches  of  the  old 
chanty  of  ' '  Leave  Her,  Johnny  ' '  ringing  from 
his  lips  in  a  clear,  deep  voice  Paul  led  the  way 
out  on  deck. 

* '  Great  old  song  that.  Ought  to  hear  a  gang 
of  bullies  at  it." 

"  It  must  be  fine,"  she  managed  to  say  with 
a  pretense  of  enjoyment. 

He  turned  from  her  and  went  forward  to  the 
standard  compass.  Going  and  returning,  he 
looked  aloft  and  around  at  the  silent  plain  of 
brine.  The  sails  still  drooped  in  idleness. 
There  was  the  barest  heave  in  the  ocean.  The 
bark  was  without  steerage  way. 

"  Better  lie  down  and  take  a  nap,"  Paul 
said  as  he  came  back  and  stood  at  the  wheel 
for  a  second.  "  Can't  tell  how  long  this  calm 
will  last.  I'm  going  to  try  to  steal  a  little 
sleep." 

"  Please  do.    I  will  lie  down  presently." 

He  did  not  meet  her  gaze,  and  she  turned 
toward  the  sea  as  if  she  hoped  its  purple  heart 
would  give  her  throbbing  one  an  answer.  She 
heard  Paul  leave  the  poop  and  then  a  clang 
190 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

from  the  engine  room  told  her  he  was  there. 
It  sounded  like  a  door  closing  between  them— 
a  door  that  would  never  open  again — and  she 
went  into  the  lounge  to  weep  bitter  tears  which 
would  not  be  stayed. 

If  she  could  have  seen  Paul  Lavelle's  face 
when  he  turned  away  from  her  and  at  the  mo- 
ment when  she  was  giving  way  to  her  loneliness 
she  would  have  understood  that  he  was  suffer- 
ing, too. 

After  overhauling  the  fires  under  the  donkey 
boiler,  Paul  threw  himself  at  full  length  across 
the  main  hatch.  He  was  mind  weary;  body 
weary;  at  war  with  himself.  Staring  up  at 
the  sky  he  brought  his  whole  life  in  contempla- 
tion. Another  day,  as  he  had  told  the  gold 
woman,  might  see  them  delivered  from  their 
peril  in  the  Daphne.  Anyway  he  felt  that  the 
world — the  world  in  which  she  belonged  and 
must  have  her  being — was  not  very  far  off. 
And  she  would  be  going  out  of  his  life  forever. 
She  must.  A  pariah  like  him  could  not  say  to 
her,  "  Stay."  The  man  who  stood  marked  as 
he  was  could  say  to  no  woman,  "  Stay."  All 
day  the  past  had  lashed  him.  All  day  the  fine- 
ness of  him  had  arraigned  the  weakness  which 
had  permitted  him  to  forget  that  he  could  never 
claim  her  love.  All  day  the  memory  of  his 

191 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

madness  in  daring  to  kiss  her  as  be  had  had 
tortured  him.  He  groaned  in  his  agony  of 
spirit. 

"  God,"  he  prayed  aloud  with  lips  strange 
to  prayer,  "  grant  that  I  may  finish  '  what  re- 
mains before  us  of  the  course  without  dishonor 
to  ourselves  or  hurt  to  others.'  For  my  soul's 
sake  I  ask  this." 

With  this  thought  his  mother's  dear  face 
smiled  into  his  vision. 

"  Mother  mine,  mother  mine,"  he  murmured, 
and  his  eyes  closed  in  exhaustion. 

It  was  dusk  when  Emily  awoke  in  the  lounge. 
By  the  silver  watch  she  saw  that  it  was  a  quar- 
ter past  six  o'clock.  All  was  quiet  as  when 
she  lay  down.  The  bark  was  in  the  same  dead 
calm.  The  creaking  of  the  gear  overhead  and 
the  slatting  of  the  idle  sails  were  the  only 
sounds  in  the  stillness.  She  stole  below,  and 
on  her  way  forward  paused  at  the  door  of  the 
derelict's  room.  He  still  slept.  She  tiptoed 
inside  and  wet  his  lips  with  a  sip  of  water. 
He  murmured  in  unconscious  thankfulness. 
She  hurried  on  then  toward  the  engine  room. 
Paul  must  be  there  or  in  the  galley.  She  came 
upon  him  lying  across  the  main  hatch.  He  was 
asleep,  his  head  pillowed  on  his  right  arm.  The 
light  of  a  love  that  would  never  die  came  into 
192 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

her  eyes  as  she  stood  for  a  second  listening  to 
his  deep  breathing  of  honest  weariness. 

The  chill  of  the  coming  night  was  in  the  air. 
Emily  stole  aft  again  on  tiptoe  and  returned 
with  a  blanket.  She  spread  it  over  the  sleeper 
with  a  mother's  gentleness.  He  did  not  move. 
Sighing,  she  turned  away  and  with  the  silence 
of  a  thief  went  to  the  galley  to  prepare  the 
evening  meal. 


193 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

COMING  down  from  aloft,  where  he  had  gone 
immediately  after  dinner  to  reef  and  furl  the 
topgallant  sails  as  best  he  could,  Emily  met 
Paul  with  the  news  that  the  derelict  seemed  to 
be  recovering  a  glimmer 'of  consciousness. 

"  When  I  carried  a  cup  of  beef  extract  to 
him  just  now  he  was  awake, "'she  told  Paul. 
"  He  seemed  not  at  all  surprised  to  find  a 
woman  attending  him.  He  thinks  he  is  in  a 
hospital  somewhere — that  I  am  a  nurse.  When 
I  asked  him  his  name  he '  answered :  '  Number 
19— cot  19,  nurse/  " 

"  Did  you  ask  him  anything  about  the 
Daphne?  " 

11  Yes;  but  neither  the  vessel's  name  nor 
Captain  McGavock's  nor  any  of  those  you  told 
me  were  in  the  log  book  meant  anything  to  him. 
His  only  answer  to  all  my  questions  was, 
*  Nurse,  if  the  captain  comes  in  before  "  lights 
out  "  tell  him  I'd  like  to  see  him.'  He's  an 
Irishman,  I  should  say — a  kind  sort  of  an  old 
soul,  with  a  rare,  musical  brogue." 

"  A  very  broth  of  a  bhoy,  eh?  "  laughed  Paul. 

"If  he  is  one  of  the  Daphne's  crew,  I  am 
194 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

sure — I  am  certain  that  he  had  nothing  to  do 
with  the  mutiny." 

"  And  that  is  the  woman  of  it.  Come.  I'll 
go  in  to  see  him.  Let  me  get  a  lantern  out  of 
the  engine  room." 

"  There  is  a  lamp  in  his  room.  I  filled  it  the 
way  I  saw  you  filling  the  sidelights." 

"  You'd  make  a  great  pioneer,  Emily. 
Come." 

Thus  praise  always  came  from  him  quickly 
for  the  doing  of  a  helpful  thing.  She  could 
imagine  men  working  their  fingers  to  the  bone 
under  his  mastership. 

Together  they  went  aft,  Emily  preceding  Paul 
through  the  alleyway  to  the  derelict's  door. 
The  light  in  the  lamp,  which  hung  in  gimbals 
against  the  forward  bulkhead  of  the  room,  was 
low.  Emily  went  in  and  turned  it  up. 

"  Are  you  feeling  better!  "  she  asked 
cheerily. 

"  Yes,  nurse,  easier — much  easier,"  came  his 
answer  rather  thickly.  His  face  was  toward 
the  inside  of  the  berth.  He  turned  over  pain- 
fully, his  eyelids  fluttering.  ' '  Has  the  cap — the 
Quid  Man " 

His  lips  froze  as  he  discovered  Paul  Lavelle 
in-  the  doorway.  He  started  up  on  his  right 
elbow.  His  eyes  bulged  wildly.  His  jaw  went 

195 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

loose.  He  made  a  vain  effort  to  lift  his  left 
hand  to  his  brow  in  a  salute.  He  tried  to  speak, 
but  his  tongue  clicked  in  his  throat  like  a  twig 
crackling.  With  a  weird,  eery  cry  he  fell  back 
in  the  berth  senseless. 

The  time  of  a  breath  embraced  the  strange 
scene. 

* '  Oh,  Paul,  Paul,  he  knows  you !  ' '  exclaimed 
Emily  in  a  tense  whisper. 

1  *  I  never  saw  him  to  my  knowledge  until  we 
pulled  him  aboard  this  afternoon,"  said  Paul, 
recovering  from  his  surprise.  "  He  has  mis- 
taken me  for  somebody  else.  Poor  devil  is  out 
of  his  head." 

"  Are  you  sure  you  have  never  seen  him?  ' 

"  I'm  quite  sure.  But  it's  uncanny.  Please 
bring  the  lamp  over  here  so  that  I  can  take  a 
good  look  at  him." 

Emily  carried  the  light  to  the  side  of  the 
berth  and  Paul  bent  over  the  stranger.  He 
searched  every  feature  of  the  weather-beaten 
face  and  his  own  memory  at  the  same  time. 
He  was  positive  he  had  never  seen  the  derelict 
before. 

"  Just  out  of  his  head,  little  woman — that's 
all.    I  never  saw  him — I  don't  know  him,  al- 
though his  own  mother  wouldn't  recognize  him 
now." 
196 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

As  he  spoke  Paul  timed  the  unconscious 
man's  pulse  and  laid  an  ear  to  his  breast. 
Emily  caught  an  uncertain  shake  in  Paul's  head 
as  he  straightened. 

"  Is — is  he  going  to  get  better?  "  she  whis- 
pered. 

Paul  answered  her  with  a  shrug  of  doubt. 

"  We  can't  do  any  more  for  him  than  we  are 
doing  now." 

He  added  this  as  he  saw  her  wince  and  the 
glint  of  pitying  tears  come  into  her  eyes. 

"  His  heart  is  very  weak,"  he  went  on,  after 
a  slight  pause.  ' '  He  seems  to  be  in  a  bad  moor- 
ing ground.  He's  burnt  up  as  if  he  had  been 
through  a  fiery  furnace.  It  may  sound  strange 
to  hear  one  speak  of  the  sea  as  a  fiery  furnace, 
but  it  is.  It  can  burn  a  man's  soul  out  of  him 
just  as  it  can  freeze  it  out.  And — mock  him 
with  bitter  waters  he  cannot  drink." 

There  was  a  world  of  bitterness  in  his  tone 
as  he  finished  speaking  and  left  the  room  to 
go  aft  to  the  medicine  chest.  He  returned  with 
some  spirits  of  nitre  to  find  Emily  placing  a 
wet  pack  across  the  derelict's  forehead.  He 
mixed  a  dose  of  the  tincture  in  a  tumbler  of 
water  and  dropped  some  of  the  fluid  between 
the  cracked  lips. 

"  This  will  help  to  pull  the  fever  down,"  he 

197 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

explained.  "  It's  all  I  could  find  back  there-- 
this  nitre.  He  will  need  watching  and  attention 
to-night.  If  this  calm  holds  I  will  slip  in  here 
now  and  again. ' ' 

A  low  moan  escaped  from  the  stranger. 

"  Come,  little  woman.  Let  us  leave  him 
now." 

Paul  put  up  a  hand  to  turn  down  the  light. 

"  No,  I  am  going  to  stay  and  do  what  I  can 
for  him,  Paul." 

"  But,  Emily,  this — this  is  no  work  for  you. 
You " 

"  Paul  Lavelle,  it  is  my  work,"  the  gold 
woman  said  firmly.  "  I've  been  a  loafer — an 
idling  nothing — a  leaner  all  my  life.  I've  never 
helped  until  now.  You've  taught  me  how.  You 
can't  unteach  me.  If  my  hands  can  aid  this 
poor  old  man  to  keep  a  hold  upon  life  they  are 
going  to  do  it.  If  they  can  make  his  going 
out  any  easier  they  are  going  to  do  it.  My 
God,  the  thought — that  it  might  be  you — and 
a  woman  would  turn  away  from — from 
you " 

Her  voice  broke.  Tears  choked  her.  She  put 
an  arm  against  the  bulkhead  and  buried  her 
face  in  it,  away  from  Paul's  sight.  Her  no- 
bility of  soul  chastened  his  spirit.  It  exalted 
him.  In  silence  he  went  out  into  the  night. 
198 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

Strangely  there  lingered  in  his  brain  as  he 
went  about  the  ship  two  sentences  Emily  had 
uttered  with  unwonted  fire:  "  You've  taught 
me  how.  You  can't  unteach  me." 

There  was  much  for  the  Daphne's  new 
skipper  to  do.  While  the  calm  gave  no  sign 
of  breaking  and  the  lounge  barometer  held 
steady  for  fair  weather,  still  the  longer  he  con- 
templated the  task  of  handling  the  Daphne  the 
bigger  it  grew  in  his  sight.  He  could  not  afford 
to  let  any  precaution  which  suggested  itself 
pass  unembraced.  So  he  turned  to  work  on  the 
theory  that  it  is  easier  to  let  out  a  reef  in  a 
breeze  than  it  is  to  furl  a  sail  in  a  gale.  He 
cut  his  coat  according  to  the  cloth  he  had.  He 
double-reefed  the  foresail  and  the  topsails  and, 
with  the  donkey  engine's  aid,  found  it  not  such 
a  hard  task  as  he  had  imagined  it  might  be. 
Steam  hauled  the  blocks  of  the  reef  tackles 
closer  together  than  sailor  hands  could  ever 
have  brought  them.  The  best  he  could  do  with 
the  mainsail  was  stopper  it  with  gaskets.  It 
would  have  been  vain  and  futile  to  have  tried 
to  roll  the  heavy  canvas  up  on  its  yard.  He 
knew  if  it  should  come  on  to  blow  that  the  wind 
would  take  care  of  it  as  he  left  it,  but  he  could 
not  help  it. 

The  last  thing  he  did  forward  was  to  put  the 

199 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

hatch  covers  on  and  bar  them  down.  The  tar- 
paulin had  been  burned  or  thrown  overboard 
by  the  mutineers,  but  Paul  felt  certain  that 
little  water  could  enter  the  Daphne  there. 

As  he  went  aft  he  was  surprised  to  see  a 
light  in  Elston's  room.  Peering  through  the 
port  under  the  gangway  ladder  leading  to  the 
poop  he  saw  Emily  writing  at  the  dead  boy's 
desk.  She  stirred  slightly  as  his  eyes  rested 
on  her  and  as  if  conscious  of  another  presence. 
A  sense  of  guilt  startled  Paul  and  he  hastened 
aft  to  reef  down  the  spanker. 

With  the  finishing  of  that  task  the  skipper 
leaned  wearily  against  the  wheel  and  surveyed 
the  things  he  had  done  alow  and  aloft.  The 
moon,  which,  twenty-four  hours  gone,  he  had 
never  expected  to  see  rise  again,  presently 
caught  him  in  its  spell.  It  was  now  nearly  two 
hours  high  over  the  bark's  starboard  quarter. 
In  its  beams  the  Daphne  seemed  but  the  deli- 
cate tracery  of  a  ship  o'  dreams.  It  powdered 
the  vessel  with  a  silvery  dust;  enveloped  her 
in  a  mystic,  spiritual  splendor.  The  gilded 
trucks  gleamed  like  true  gold.  Masts  and  spars, 
shrouds  and  stays  and  running  gear  were  in- 
vested with  a  fairy  grace.  The  coarse,  heavy 
sails  had  become  gossamer  in  their  fineness- 
butterfly  wings  at  rest.  The  night,  as  if  for 
200 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

the  very  beauty  of  the  scene,  wept  upon  the1 
fabric  in  dewy  tears  of  pearl  and  opal  and 
sparkling  diamond. 

Emerging  from  the  lounge  Emily  was  caught 
in  the  moonlight 's  entrancement.  For  a  second 
it  swept  from  her  mind  what  had  brought  her 
seeking  Lavelle.  Paul,  staring  aloft,  did  not 
see  her  nor  did  he  hear  her  footfall.  A  hiss 
of  steam  from  the  donkey  boiler's  safety  es- 
cape, which  had  been  set  at  a  very  low  pressure, 
broke  the  spell. 

"  It  seems  helpless — weak  to  say  that  words 
fail  one  in  expressing  a  thought — an  impres- 
sion," said  the  gold  woman.  "  But  all  I  can 
say — I  must  say  the  trite  thing:  How  won- 
drously  beautiful !  ' ' 

Her  words  but  expressed  the  thought  that 
had  leaped  into  Paul's  mind  at  discovering  her 
and  which  he  had  bravely  denied  utterance. 

"  The  sea  has  no  fairer  sight  to  give  men 
than  this — unless  it  is  a  square-rigged  vessel 
like  the  Daphne,  '  a  towering  cloud  of  canvas/ 
driving  along  over  the  deep  in  such  a  light. 
But  how  is  the  stranger?  " 

The  question  brought  a  serious  eagerness 
into  Emily's  face. 

' '  Are  you  positive,  Paul,  that  you  have  never 
seen  this  man  before?  ' 

201 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

"  I  have  searched  my  memory  to  place  him. 
He  is  not  in  it.  Why?  " 

"  He  was  quiet  for  perhaps  an  half-hour 
after  you  left.  I  went  into  the  room  next  door 
— the  mate's — to — to  write  something.  Sud- 
denly I  heard  him  call  your  name,  '  Lavelle.'  ' 

"  Impossible!  " 

*  *  No ;  I  heard  the  name,  '  Lavelle  ' ;  just  as 
distinctly  as  that.  I  was  shocked.  I  stole  in 
very  softly  and  stood  beside  him.  His  eyes 
were  closed,  but  he  kept  mumbling,  *  That  night 
at  Apia ' 

"  Apia?  Apia?  "  Paul  repeated  with  inter- 
est. * '  Yes,  go  on.  What  else  did  he  say ?  ' ' 

"  That  was  as  far  as  he  seemed  able  to  get. 
I  thought  he  was  trying  to  go  over  some  oft- 
told  story.  At  last  he  sank  back  in  exhaustion. 
I  did  not  dare  to  speak  to  him.  He  has  slept 
ever  since  and  his  fever  is  down.  What  is 
Apia?  Where  is  it?  What  do  you  think  he 
meant?  " 

"  Apia — in  the  Samoan  Islands.  My  father 
was  lost  there  twenty-five  years  ago  in  a  hurri- 
cane which  trapped  three  naval  squadrons.  He 
was  about  my  age  at  the  time.  Only  a  little 
while  ago  mother  wrote  me  that  a  photograph 
I  sent  her  might  have  been  father's.  This  old 
fellow  must  have  served  under  him.  He  mis- 
202 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

took  me  for  Mm  when  he  saw  me  so  unexpect- 
edly in  the  doorway.  This  explains  it.  The  way 
he  attempted  to  salute  when  he  saw  me  made 
me  think  he  was  a  man-o '-war's  man." 

A  strange,  unreasonable  hope  which  had 
sprung  into  Emily's  heart  died. 

"  The  sea  plays  strange  pranks,  doesn't  it, 
my  friend?  "  Paul  asked  after  a  pause.  The 
question  drew  Emily's  gaze  back  from  the 
satiny  blue  deep.  His  manner  of  address 
chilled  her.  ' '  *  My  friend !  My  friend  '  ?  "  her 
brain  echoed.  He  averted  his  gaze  sadly. 

"  Yes,"  she  assented.  "  It  does  play  strange 
pranks. ' ' 

In  the  words  a  meaning  was  veiled  that  did 
not  reach  him.  She  was  thinking  of  the  barrier 
that  had  been  building  itself  between  them  all 
day.  No  sooner  did  one  wall  go  down  than 
another  rose  in  its  place.  Strangely,  as  she 
watched  him  staring  over  the  deep  to  the  south- 
ward, a  feeling  of  contrition  filled  her.  With 
the  truest  sympathy  she  said : 

"  I  am  sorry.  Perhaps  I  shouldn't  have  told 
you  what  this  man  said.  It  has  stirred  unpleas- 
ant memories — sad  ones." 

"  No.  The  finest  memory  I  have  is  my  father 
— the  finest  memory  any  son  ever  had." 

As  he  spoke  he  seemed  to  go  still  further 

203 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

away  from  her.  In  silence  she  watched  him 
enter  the  lounge  and  return  to  the  deck  with 
his  sextant.  He  took  an  observation  of  Polaris 
and  then  went  in  to  the  chart  table  to  work  it 
out.  With  a  feeling  akin  to  shame  Emily  sensed 
that  he  did  not  wish  her  near  him  and  she 
started  below. 

"  We  should  try  to  get  as  much  sleep  as  pos- 
sible while  this  calm  lasts." 

He  said  this  coldly  and  without  looking  up 
from  the  book  from  which  he  was  taking  a  set 
of  logarithms. 

"  I  know — I  understand,"  she  answered, 
fighting  for  control  of  herself. 

"  A  breeze  may  come  at  any  time  and  we'll 
need  every  bit  of  strength  we  can  muster  to 
work  the  ship." 

The  gold  woman  could  stand  the  uncertainty 
no  longer. 

"  Paul,  tell  me  frankly — have  I  done  or  said 
anything  to  hurt  you?  What  is  it?  What  I 
said  down  there  in  the  stranger's  room — is  it 
that?  " 

The  words  were  no  sooner  away  from  her 
lips  than  anger  at  herself  swept  her.  Where 
was  her  pride? 

"  No,  no.  Of  course  you  have  not  said  any- 
thing. Of  course  not.  All 's  well,  little  woman. ' ' 
204 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

His  answer  came  quickly,  but  not  without  an 
embarrassment  that  she  failed  to  understand. 
He  bent  his  head  over  his  work  again.  "  Don't 
forget  you  are  to  call  me  at  the  first  sign  of 
a  breeze;  anyway  not  later  than  11:  30. " 

They  had  planned  at  dinner  that  she  was  to 
keep  the  watch  for  the  first  part  of  the  night. 

"  No;  I  shan't  forget,"  she  answered  bravely 
and  groped  down  the  companionway  from  his 
sight.  Nor  could  she  dream  what  pain  it  cost 
the  lonely  man  at  the  chart  table  to  let  her  go 
from  him. 


206 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

"  UP  with  ye,  yez  foretop  bullies!  Up  an* 

give  her  a  cheer!  Hip! Hear  her!  A 

bloody  Englishman  playin'  av  l  Th'  Star  Span- 
gled Banner !  '  That 's  for  us,  ye  bullies ! 

Hip,  hip! Damn  ye,  cheer!  Now!  Hip! 

—Again! — She's  struck!  No!  She's  by  the 
reef! — By  God  she's  clear!  She's  in  the  open 
sea!  Clear!  Hip!  " 

This  monologue,  shouted  as  if  through  the 
teeth  of  a  gale,  suddenly  broke  upon  the  gold 
woman's  troubled  consciousness  where  she 
stood  writing  at  William  Elston's  desk.  It  was 
the  derelict  raving.  The  dramatic  spirit  of  his 
speech  thrilled  her.  It  conveyed  to  her  mind 
a  picture  of  a  ship  fighting  to  sea  against  all 
odds  and  she  could  see  the  stranger  in  the  next 
room  somewhere  in  the  foreground  of  a  ragged 
shore  urging  others — men  under  him — to  cheer 
her  on. 

A  silence  followed  the  outburst  and  Emily 
tiptoed  into  the  alleyway.  She  listened  for  Paul, 
but  no  sound  came  from  him  aft.  She  had  been 
below  about  an  half -hour.  He  must  be  asleep. 

The  gold  woman  entered  the  derelict's  door 
206 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

softly  and  discovered  him  sitting  upright  in 
his  berth,  peering  from  under  his  two  hands 
as  if  at  something  a  long  distance  away.  There 
was  an  heroic  suggestion  in  the  posture  of  him 
and  in  the  set  of  his  scraggly  white-bearded  jaw. 

"  She's  clear — clear,"  came  from  him  in  a 
tired  whisper  as  Emily  crossed  the  threshold. 
He  dropped  his  hands.  "  Hello,  nurse,"  he 
said,  discovering  the  girl.  She  turned  up  the 
light. 

"  You're  feeling  much  better,  aren't  you!  ' 
she  asked  very  tenderly. 

She  held  a  glass  of  water  to  his  lips  and  lie 
drained  it. 

"  Thankee,  nurse,  thankee.  Another  long 
drink,  please.  That's — Ah!  That's  good.  My 
coppers  is  hot.  Thankee.  I'll  be  comin'  out 
o'  drydoek  soon.  All  I  needs  is  t'  get  my 
head  gear  overhauled  an'  these  ribs  spliced. 
Nurse,  sailormen  orter  have  good  hackmatack 
knees  for  ribs."  A  faint  smile  of  humor  rip- 
pled across  his  face.  "  It's  a  mighty  long  way 
from  a  fore-uppertawps'l  yard  t'  th'  foc'sle 
head — a  mighty  long  way. ' ' 

The  listener  gathered  that  the  old  man  be- 
lieved he  was  suffering  from  the  effects  of  a 
fall.  He  lay  back  obediently  at  her  suggestion. 
His  eyes  appeared  quite  rational.  Although 

207 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

his  hands  were  still  scorching  to  the  touch  there 
had  been  an  abatement  of  the  fever.  Yet  his 
pulse  was  extremely  weak.  When  Emily  felt 
it  she  was  surprised  at  the  strength  of  his  voice. 

"  Nurse,"  he  said,  after  a  short  pause, 
"  when  that  'ere  sky  pilot  comes  roun'  in  th' 
mornin'  I  wants  you  t'  stand  by."  A  twinkle 
danced  in  his  sea-bleached  blue  eyes.  ' '  He  says 
th'  sea  gives  up  its  dead.  I'll  be  after  askin' 
th'  gintleman  how  he  knows.  Ye '11  hear  him 
shputter  at  that.  It'll  be  a  fair  joke.  A 
fair " 

He  stopped  seriously.  His  gaze  sought  the 
doorway.  In  a  whisper  fraught  with  a  note  of 
bitter  fatalism  he  said : 

"  Th'  sea  gives  nothin'  back,  nurse.  When 
it  takes  annythin'  it  kapes  it.  Th'  sky  pilots 
are  but  pretindin'." 

Emily  sensed  that  the  sailor's  mind  was 
groping  around  the  appearance  of  Paul  earlier 
in  the  evening.  She  feared  that  it  would  do 
him  harm  to  let  his  mind  rest  on  this  and  that 
it  would  be  better  if  she  could  induce  him  to 
sleep. 

"  Don't  you  think  if  I  turned  down  the  light 
you  might  be  able  to  sleep  again?  " 

The  suggestion  startled  him. 

"  No,  no,  nurse.  Plaze  lave  th'  light.  I'll 
208 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

be  afther  stayin'  awake  for  tk'  Ould  Man — 
that's  me  own  skipper." 

"  But  he  has  been  here.    He " 

"  Mother  av  God!  "  he  cried.  He  seized  her 
hand  and  held  it  in  great  stress.  "  Thin  yez 
saw  him,  too!  Yez  saw  Lavelle."  His  eyes, 
filled  with  awe,  leaped  from  Emily's  face  to  the 
open  doorway  and  back  again.  "  'Tis  me 
warnin',  colleen,  t'  be  snuggin'  down — t'  make 
everythin'  tight!  " 

The  thing  she  had  wished  not  to  do  she  had 
done  unwittingly.  She  had  turned  his  poor 
brain  back  to  its  memory  of  Paul's  father. 

"  Did  yez  hear  him  shpake  t'  me?  Did  he 
shpake  t'  annybody  else?  " 

"  It  was  not  the  Captain  Lavelle  you  think. 
It  was  his  son." 

"  His  son?    Not  '  Prince  '  Lavelle?  " 

The  derelict  shook  his  head  in  doubt,  and  as 
he  did  so  he  looked  round  the  stateroom.  His 
eyes  picked  up  each  article  in  it  in  a  bewildered, 
half -familiar  way. 

"  Yes,  his  son.  You  must  have  no  fears. 
Can't  you  think  where  you  are?  Do  try. 
You're  aboard  the  bark  Daphne — the  Daphne." 

"Daphne?  Daphne?  "  he  repeated.  "No, 
th'  Daphne  wasn't  there.  There  was  th'  Tren- 
ton, th'  Nipsic,  th'  Vandalia,  a  Dutchmin  called 

209 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

th '  Sadler,  th '  Cally-ope — not  Daphne. "  It  was 
plain  that  the  past  was  ruling  his  memory. 
11  'Twas  only  yestiddy  th'  home  mails  come  in 
an'  brought  th' '  Prince '  a  loikeness  av  his  littul 
bhoy— littul  Paul.  Says  th'  '  Prince  '  t'  me, 
'  Dan,  an'  'tis  home  with  th'  littul  feller  I'd 
loike  t'  be.'  He  says  that  t'  me,  an'  him  th' 
*  first  luff  '  an'  me  a  common  sailorman  an' 
capt'n  av  th'  foretop  be  grace  av  three  enlist- 
ments an'  sthayin'  sthraight  three  months  on 
ind.  Now  he's  lyin'  out  there  in  thirn  God- 
forsaken wathers  an'  all  because  av  a  bloody 
lot  av  Dutchmin  an'  naygurs." — "  Come  along 
t'  th'  mass  with  me  an'  pray  for  God's  kind- 
ness t'  th'  *  Prince's  '  sowl.  Yez'll  niver  sail 
agin,  my  bullies,  under  an  officher  man  loike 
4  The  Prince.'  " 

The  last  was  not  spoken  to  Emily,  but  to  men 
who  were  not  in  the  room. 

The  sweet  tender  praise  of  the  father  of  the 
man  she  loved  with  all  the  soul  of  her  wrung 
tears  from  the  listener.  She  could  see  "  The 
Prince  "  showing  this  sailor  the  picture  of  Paul. 
She  could  hear  him  speaking. 

"  And  he  called  you  Dan—'  The  Prince  '!  " 
Emily  managed  to  say  and  with  the  hope  that 
possibly  it  might  suggest  the  derelict's  iden- 
tity. 

210 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

"  Dan?  T'  be  sure  he  called  me  Dan.  '  Rid- 
headed  bunch  av  sin  '  he  called  me  whin  I  wint 
oh  th'  bind.  I  had  a  thatch  in  thim  days  as  rid 
as  th'  British  merchant  flag."  A  gnarled  hand 
wandered  to  his  bald  crown  and  as  it  touched 
it  the  sailor  started  up.  Reason  seemed  to  have 
made  a  breach  in  his  poor  brain.  He  looked 
round  the  room  quickly.  A  light  of  recognition 
dawned  in  his  gaze.  "  Dan — Dan,"  he  kept  re- 
peating. * '  Daniel — Daniel  Me  —  Me  —  Me  — 
Daniel  McGovern!  " 

Emily  hearkened  in  breathlessness.  She  felt 
herself  in  the  presence  of  a  mystery.  Paul  had 
read  her  the  names  of  the  Daphne's  crew  from 
the  log.  "  Daniel  McGovern  "  was  not  one  of 
them. 

Tears  coursed  down  the  old  man's  cheeks. 
His  hands  trembled.  His  voice  quavered  in  a 
childish  treble.  He  kept  on  repeating  the  name 
over  and  over  again  as  if  he  had  found  it  after 
many  years  and  was  making  sure  that  it  would 
not  escape  him  again. 

Suddenly  he  caught  Emily's  hand  and  became 
still.  He  was  listening. 

"  Mother  av  God  where  am  I?  "  he  asked  in 
a  few  seconds.  In  the  next  breath  he  exclaimed : 
11  'Tis  a  ship  I'm  on!  I  c'n  fale  th'  sea!  " 

"  You're  in  the  bark  Daphne — the  Daphne. 

211 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

Don't  you  understand!  Can't  you  remember 
anything?  " 

It  was  evident  that  a  great  struggle  was  going 
on  within  him. 

"  That's  her  door;  that's  her  door,"  he  whis- 
pered. He  pointed  at  the  stateroom  door. 
' '  Takewood  an '  mahogany  an '  maple.  So  were 
th'  cabins  thrimmed." 

Emily's  heart  leapt  at  this.  He  was  from 
the  Daphne.  She  gave  him  a  drink  of  water. 
She  started  to  call  Paul.  But  when  she  thought 
of  what  had  happened  before  she  drew  back. 

"  Yez  are  not  a  spirut — th'  spirut  av  Mc- 
Gavock's  woife,  eh?  "  the  derelict  asked  doubt- 
fully. 

"  No,  no;  but  what  has  happened  here? 
What  became  of  McGavock's  wife?  " 

"  Murder  an'  hell.  That's  what  happened 
here.  Where's  Morgan — an'  th'  Jap?  Th' 
sicond  mate  an'  th'  cook?  " 

"  Only  you  and  Captain  Lavelle  and 

A  cunning  expression  came  into  the  derelict's 
face  at  Paul's  name.  His  mind  was  breaking 
again. 

"  What  d'yez  know  of  Lavelle?  "  Without 
pausing  for  an  answer,  he  went  on:  "  *  The 
Prince  '  is  drown-ded  these  twinty  odd  year. 
An'  his  poor  bhoy — he's  gone  this  past  twilve- 
212 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

month.  A  man — a  prince  av  min  loike  his  fa- 
ther, he  was.  I  was  along  av  th'  bhoy  in  th' 
Yakutat." 

Emily's  senses  went  reeling. 

11  The  Yakutat?  "  she  gasped. 

"  Aye,  th'  Yakutat — th'  big  Alaskan  brute. 
She  did  for  th'  bhoy,  but  '  Th'  Prince  '  would 
have  loiked  t'  have  been  with  us  that  night." 
A  boastfulness  of  pride  came  into  his  voice. 
His  eyes  closed  for  a  second  as  if  he  saw  a 
vision.  "  'Twas  loike  mush  whin  she  piled  up. 
Misther  Lavelle  kept  a-tellin'  Graham  he  was 
sthandin'  in  too  close,  but  'twas  no  use.  I  heard 
him  meself  tell  him  twict.  I  was  at  th'  wheel 
th'  lasht  toime.  I  can  see  th'  two  av  thim  just 
outside  th'  wheel-house  now.  *  You're  wrong,' 
says  *  Th'  Prince's  '  son.  *  I'm  masther  here,' 
says  Graham.  Dhrunk  he  was  wid  th'  lust  av 
pride  an'  power  loike  whin  fools  command.  An' 
maybe  he  was  dhrunk,  too,  wid  somethin'  else. 
'  Take  yure  orders  or  go  t'  yure  room.'  An' 
*  Th'  Prince's  '  son  says  he:  '  I'll  take  me  or- 
ders.' I  was  at  th'  wheel  agin  in  th'  mid- watch. 
God  help  me  'twas  meself  that  stheered  her  up 
on  th'  rocks,  obeying  orders.  She  climbed  thim 
loike  a  woild  horse.  Th'  scut  av  a  third  of- 
ficher  had  th'  bridge.  *  Full  spade  asthern  '  he 
give  her  an'  I  knew  thin  she  was  broke  in  two. 

213 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

*  Full  spade  ahead,'  an'  she'd  a-hung  on  th' 
rocks  till  mornin'  whin  th'  shore  folk  could 
have  saw  us." 

The  old  man  paused. 

"  Yes,  yes,  go  on,"  whispered  Emily. 

"  A  sup  av  water.  That's  it.  Thankee, 

nurse.  Where  was  I?  Oh Misther  La- 

velle  comes  a-tumblin'  up  an'  Graham  an'  th' 
foorth  officher.  '  All  hands  t'  th'  boats,'  says 
Graham.  A  mad,  crazy  coward  he  was.  Says 
I  t'  me  self,  '  I  want  none  av  ye,'  an'  I  followed 

*  The  Prince's'   son.     «  T'  th'  boats.'     Huh! 
An'  not  enough  boats  for  th'  half  av  thim 
aboord.     I  lep'  from  th'  wheel  an'  shtuck  t' 
Misther  Lavelle.    We  had  a  din  av  woild  ani- 
mals t'  foight.    But  we  got  our  boat  away— 
th'  childer  an'  th'  women  an'  th'  ould  folk. 
Lavelle  he  was  for  goin'  back  aboord.     'Twas 
suicide.    I  shoved  off.    We  cleared  th'  side  an' 
just  thin  a  big  naygur  I  had  lopped  av'  th'  ear 
an*  overboord  from  th'  deck  reaches  up  an' 
catches  our  gunnle.    *  Th'  Prince's  '  son  cracks 
at  him  with  an  oar.    A  fule  shtood  up  i'  th' 
boat,  sayin',  '  Take  him  aboord.'    An'  we  full 
thin  as  a  tick.    Th'  next  minyute  an'  over  we 
wint. 

"  Loike  an  hour  ago  I  see  it.  Says  a  littul 
lady  forninst  me — we'd  taken  her  husband 
214 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

aboord  'cause  we'd  seen  him  sick  about  tk' 
decks — says  she,  '  If  we  must  die,  we'll  die 
thegither,  Jawn.'  An'  all  round  was  Bed- 
lam." 

With  a  shudder  he  lay  back.  Emily  Gran- 
ville  knew  that  it  was  of  her  mother  and  father 
that  the  derelict  had  just  spoken.  But  even  in 
the  stress  of  feeling  which  possessed  her  there 
formed  in  her  mind  an  high,  practical  purpose. 
She  knew  that  if  this  man  could  but  reach  the 
ears  of  the  world  with  this  tale  it  meant  the 
vindication  of  Paul  Lavelle.  It  meant  all  that 
was  dear  to  him — his  good  name,  his  honor  re- 
stored. The  sailor  must  not  die.  He  must  live. 
She  would  fight  death  for  him  and  in  justice 
she  must  conquer.  If  she  could  do  this  thing 
for  her  love  she  would  have  nothing  else  to  ask 
of  life. 

But  of  a  sudden  dread  seized  her.  Perhaps 
it  was  only  the  tale  of  a  disordered  brain  that 
she  had  heard.  Why  had  not  this  man  come 
forward  at  the  inquiry  which  had  sent  Paul 
forth  branded  a  coward!  Why  had  he  not  told 
this  story  then?  If  he  had  been  on  the  Ydkutat 
that  night,  how  was  it  that  Paul  did  not  remem- 
ber him?  Could  it  be  that  this  man's  weakened 
mind  had  found  suggestion  for  the  tale  from 
the  force  of  her  own  mental  desire? 

215 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

"  But  what  became  of  you  after  that  night — 
after  the  Yakutat  was  lost?  "  she  asked. 

"  I  don't  know,  nurse.  I  don't  know.  It  was 
just  a  year  ago  that  I  woke  up. ' ' 

The  last  anchorage  of  her  hope  went  with 
that.  It  was  but  a  maundering  tale,  after  all. 
Or  else  her  senses  were  tricking  her  and  she 
had  imagined  that  he  had  said  these  things 
about  Paul  and  her  mother  and  father  and  the 
Yakutat! 

"  It  all  came  back  to  me,"  the  derelict  went 
on  wearily — "  twelve  years  of  my  loife.  I  was 
in  th'  seamen's  Bethel  in  Hong  Kong — just  a 
year  gone.  An'  out  av  a  'Frisco  paper  I  spelled 
that  th'  Lavelle  av  th'  Yakutat—'  Th' 
Prince's  '  bhoy — was  gone — lost  in  a  tramp  off 
Kangoon.  Like  th'  loightnin'  sthrikes  th' 
twilve  lost  year  come  back.  Says  I,  'I'm 
Daniel  McGovern.'  Whin  I  was  afther  tellin' 
th'  sky  pilot  he  wint  an'  tol'  th'  docthors  all 
about  it.  Th'  newspapers  printed  it.  Whin 
th'  Yakutat' s  boat  wint  over  somethin'  struck 
me  head.  A  whale  ship  picked  me  up.  '  Th' 
Prince's  '  boy  niver  knew  I'd  served  with  his 
father.  All  th'  thrubble  in  me  head  shtarted 
before  I  j 'ined  th'  Yakutat.  I  was  afther  fallin ' 
from  th'  tawps'l  yard  av  some  ship.  Her  name 
— I  can't  raymimber  where  'twas  or  what  ship 
216 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

'twas.  I  tould  Elston  about  it — fine  lad  he  was 
— an'  he  laughed  at  me  till  I  give  him  th'  piece 
out  av  th'  Hong  Kong  newspaper.  He 

laughed I'll  be  afther  shlapin',  shlapin', 

nurse.  I'll  be " 

Daniel  McGovern's  eyes  closed.  He  seemed 
very  weak.  For  a  second  Emily  feared  that  he 
was  dying.  Then,  her  abiding  faith  in  the  jus- 
tice of  things  renewed  her. 

"  He  mustn't  die,  God — not  yet,  not  yet," 
she  pleaded  in  a  whisper. 

She  ran  from  the  derelict's  room  into  the 
mate's.  Earlier  in  the  evening  she  had  found 
on  Elston 's  desk  a  book — a  half -filled  diary — • 
from  which  she  had  torn  a  page  upon  which  to 
write.  She  carried  this  book  and  pen  and  ink- 
well back  to  McGovern's  room.  She  would  re- 
duce McGovern's  story  to  writing  and  make 
him  swear  to  it.  As  she  spread  the  book  open 
upon  a  chair  and  knelt  beside  it  to  write  a  news- 
paper clipping  fluttered  out  from  its  pages.  A 
glance  confirmed  the  truth  of  all  the  derelict 
had  said  about  his  strange  lapse  of  memory : 

LOST  His  IDENTITY  FOE  THIRTEEN  YEARS. 

Word  in  a  Neivspaper  Restores  the  Memory 
of  a  Man  Who  Had  Forgotten  Who  He 
Was. 

217 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

Thus  ran  the  headlines.  To  Emily  Gran- 
ville  they  were  written  in  fire. 

The  cabin  clock  struck  seven  bells — 11 :  30 — 
but  she  did  not  hear  it.  Oblivious  to  all  else 
save  her  task  and  the  flickering  life  in  the  berth 
at  her  side  she  began  to  write  a  statement  of 
all  McGovern  had  said.  She  felt  that  it  was 
in  her  to  stay  death  until  the  derelict  had 
signed  it. 


218 


CHAPTER  XXVin 

A  CRASH  which  shook  him  bodily  brought  Paul 
Lavelle  upstanding  from  the  berth  in  the 
lounge.  The  daze  of  a  heavy  sleep  clung  to 
him.  For  an  instant  he  could  not  imagine  where 
he  was.  He  was  in  utter  darkness. 

There  was  another  crash  where  the  spanker 
boom  slammed  back  from  starboard  to  port 
again.  Then,  the  Daphne  lay  over  under  the 
impact  of  a  vicious  gust  of  wind. 

It  was  the  boom  which  had  awakened  the 
sleeper.  He  leaped  out  on  deck  to  find  himself 
in  a  shapeless  blackness.  There  was  barely  a 
breeze,  but  the  air  was  filled  with  eery  noises. 
Overhead,  overside,  wherever  he  turned,  he 
heard  them — snarls,  whines,  whimperings,  and 
the  creaking  as  of  huge  pinions  wheeling.  A 
wolf  pack  might  have  been  disputing  a  kill  with 
a  horde  of  vultures. 

The  contrast  of  this  with  the  exquisite  moon- 
light night  upon  which  Lavelle  had  closed  his 
eyes  was  appalling.  He  groped  his  way  to  the 
wheel,  which  was  in  beckets  to  keep  it  from 
rolling,  and  peered  into  the  compass.  An  un- 
conscious sigh  of  thankfulness  for  the  fore- 

219 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

thought  which  had  made  him  light  the  binnacle 
lamp  escaped  from  him.  The  Daphne  was 
heading  north  by  east.  The  gust  of  wind  which 
had  slammed  the  spanker  boom  must  have  come 
out  of  the  southeast.  He  faced  that  point.  An- 
other gust  confirmed  the  assumption.  He  ran 
into  the  lounge  and  struck  a  match.  The  silver 
watch  lay  on  the  chart  table.  It  said  1  o  'clock. 
He  had  not  returned  for  this,  but  to  see  the 
barometer.  It  stood  at  30 : 00 ;  just  where  it  had 
hung  all  day. 

But  what  he  had  not  discovered  by  daylight 
he  now  saw  in  the  flickering  match  light.  The 
barometer  hand  and  the  indicator  were  caught 
together.  His  heart  went  cold.  He  lit  another 
match  and  struck  the  bulkhead  with  his  clenched 
fist.  The  blow  jarred  the  hand  and  indicator 
apart.  The  delicate  wisp  of  blue  steel  quivered 
at  30 :00  for  a  breath.  Then,  it  began  to  fall. 
It  reached  29 :10  and  clung.  Even  as  the  match 
went  out  it  recorded  29 :00  and  was  still  falling. 

He  had  seen  a  mercurial  barometer  go  from 
29 :  30  to  26 : 03  in  the  Kau  Lung.  That  was  a 
world's  record! 

Despair  seized  him.    What  could  he  and  a 
lone  woman  do  in  a  brute  of  a  vessel  like  this 
— undermanned  even  with  twenty  men  before 
the  mast? 
220 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

"  God  Almighty,  what  have  I  done?  "he  cried 
aloud  in  agony  of  spirit. 

A  smash  of  wind  from  the  southward  was  the 
answer  he  got. 

He  gritted  his  teeth  and  flung  a  curse  at  the 
sea: 

"  I'll  beat  you — you  and  all  your  foulness! 
You  sneak !  "  he  yelled  at  the  blackness. 

He  dropped  down  through  the  companion- 
way,  calling  "  Emily!  Emily!  " 

There  was  no  answer.  She  was  asleep,  poor 
girl,  he  thought.  That  was  why  she  had  let 
him  oversleep;  why  she  had  not  called  him 
when  it  turned  black. 

"  Emily!    Emily!    Where  are  you?  " 

Echoes  answered  him.  Eunning  forward,  he 
saw  the  light  beaming  from  the  derelict's  room. 
As  he  reached  the  doorway  he  beheld  the  girl 
standing  beside  the  old  man's  berth,  a  book  in 
her  left  hand  and  her  right  uplifted. 

' '  So  help  me  God, ' '  the  derelict  was  solemnly 
repeating  after  her. 

As  the  last  word  came  from  his  lips  he  dis- 
covered Lavelle. 

"  <  Th'  Prince  '!  "  he  cried  and  fell  back,  a 
hand  at  his  brow  in  salute. 

The  book  dropped  from  Emily's  hand.  She 
swayed  where  she  stood.  She  had  fought  and 

221 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

•won  a  battle  as  brave  as  any  field  of  war  ever 
knew.  Yet  an  angry  glance,  which  struck  her 
and  cut  like  a  whiplash,  was  her  reward. 

"  Why  didn't  you  answer  me  when  I  called?  ' 
Lavelle  demanded,  but  paused  not  on  an  an- 
swer.    "  Get  aft  to  that  wheel!     Go!     Run! 
Keep  her  nor 'east  until  I  can  get  back  to  you !  ' 

With  that  he  was  gone  from  her.  Like  a 
soldier,  without  questioning,  without  a  word,  sho 
went  aft  to  do  what  this  man  had  bidden. 

The  fire  under  the  donkey  was  dead  when 
Lavelle  got  to  the  engine  room.  It  would  take 
an  hour  to  make  steam.  The  barometer  and  his 
sea  wisdom  told  him  that  he  had  only  minutes 
to  prepare. 

Whatever  the  battle  was  to  be  it  was  with 
his  own  hands  that  Paul  Lavelle  must  fight  it. 
With  this  realization  a  terrific  rage  filled  him. 
It  was  fed  with  each  breath  that  he  snatched 
out  of  the  blackness.  The  sea  was  a  personal 
enemy.  Thus  men  who  deal  with  it  in  long 
intimacy  come  to  visualize  it.  The  sea  was  a 
sneak — a  coward;  always  striking  below  the 
belt. 

Lavelle  had  squared  the  yards  before  he  had 
gone  aft  in  the  evening,  leaving  the  braces  slack 
eo  as  to  cast  the  Daphne  on  the  most  advan- 
tageous tack  at  the  first  coming  of  a  breeze. 
222 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

He  had  expected  a  wind  from  the  north  and 
west.  Here  it  was  out  of  the  southeast.  The 
gusts  which  had  roused  him  had  struck  the 
bark  on  the  starboard  quarter.  It  had  brought 
her  to  on  that  side.  She  was  now  forging  ahead 
on  the  starboard  tack.  As  she  rode  she  was 
under  a  double-reefed  foresail,  reefed  upper 
and  lower  fore  and  main  topsails,  foretopmast- 
slaysail,  and  inner  or  boom  jib.  The  growing 
breeze  lifted  the  slack  out  of  the  starboard  or 
weather  braces.  The  lone  worker  in  the  dark- 
ness led  the  falls  of  the  lee  braces  to  the  main 
deck  capstan  and  hove  them  in.  And  wherever 
he  went  he  belayed  rope  and  line  with  a  double 
hitch.  There  was  a  finality  about  everything 
he  did. 

He  set  the  maintopmast-staysail,  hoisting  it 
with  the  capstan.  He  would  ride  her  with  that 
if  it  should  be  possible  to  heave  her  to  after 
he  had  located  the  bearing  of  the  storm's  center. 

He  ran  aft  only  to  stop  at  the  entrance  to 
the  alleyway.  He  remembered  the  boom  jib. 

'  *  Too  much  headsail  with  a  reefed  spanker, ' ' 
he  muttered. 

He  sped  forward  again,  found  the  jib  hal- 
yards, and  let  them  go.  As  a  last  touch  of  pre- 
caution he  bent  the  jib  downhaul  to  the  fore- 
topmast-staysail  clew  as  a  preventer  sheet. 

223 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

Aft  he  sped  again  and  through  the  cabin.  A 
faint  murmur  came  to  him  as  he  ran  by  the 
derelict's  roof. 

Out  of  the  pile  of  slop-chest  stuff  in  the  after 
cabin  he  snatched  an  oilskin  coat  and  sou'- 
wester. He  struggled  into  them  as  he  climbed 
through  the  companionway  into  the  lounge. 

A  flash  of  a  match  brought  the  barometer's 
dial  out  of  the  blackness.  28 :  03 ! 

An  impulse  to  smash  it  for  its  trickery  seized 
him.  He  forbore  and  plunged  outside.  He 
thrust  Emily  away  from  the  wheel.  As  he  bent 
to  peer  into  the  binnacle  she  shuddered  at  the 
rage  which  distorted  his  face.  Thus  men,  she 
thought,  must  look  in  battle  with  the  blood  lust 
upon  them.  There  was  something  primordial, 
relentless,  about  him.  He  was  the  elemental 
man,  sensate  that  a  kill  was  at  hand. 

The  Daphne  was  heeling  over,  further  and 
further,  under  the  onslaught  of  the  rising  wind. 

The  roughness  with  which  Lavelle  had 
pushed  Emily  away  from  the  wheel  started  a 
demon  of  resentment  to  life  in  her.  Her  arms 
were  aching.  It  had  seemed  that  the  wheel  must 
draw  them  from  their  sockets  while  she  was 
alone.  Steering  the  Daphne  while  Lavelle  had 
been  forward  had  not  been  the  tame  task  of  the 
afternoon. 
224 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

She  stood  trembling  where  this  man  had 
shoved  her.  She  could  have  struck  him. 

"  Get  below!  Close  every  port — every  door! 
Jump !  Then,  come  back  and  light  that  lamp  in 
the  lounge!  ': 

Anger  swept  her  at  his  brutal  tone.  Tears 
blinded  her.  They  were  the  tears  of  a  rage  9f 
which  she  had  never  believed  herself  capable. 
She  could  not  move. 

"  Go— on!  "he  yelled. 

A  furious  squall  twisted  the  two  words  into 
a  shriek. 

A  sea  slopped  over  the  weather  quarter  and 
ran  hissing  across  the  deck  to  leeward.  It 
sucked  hungrily  at  the  gold  woman's  feet  and 
ankles.  At  its  touch  her  rage  grew,  but  passed 
from  the  man  at  the  wheel  to  the  sea.  It  was 
the  sea  that  he  hated,  not  her.  It  was  the  sea 
that  she  hated.  It  was  the  sea  that  had  spoken 
through  him.  The  sea  was  his  enemy.  It  be- 
came in  that  moment  personal  to  her — her 
enemy. 

Thus  the  spirit  of  Lavelle  reacted  upon  Emily 
Granville's.  Could  she  have  seen  her  face  at 
that  instant  she  would  have  discovered  in  it 
the  same  elemental,  the  same  primitive  passion, 
which  had  shocked  her  in  his. 

The  girl  ran  from  the  deck  and  below. 

225 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

Lavelle  saw  her  when  she  returned  and  lit 
the  lamp  in  the  lounge.  She  wore  a  long  oil- 
skin. A  sou'wester  covered  her  head.  Out  of 
the  tail  of  his  eye  he  caught  her  staring  at  the 
barometer.  He  noted  it  with  a  thought  that 
she  had  "  some  sense." 

She  came  out  to  him  and  had  to  press  her  lips 
against  his  ear  to  make  him  hear  her  mes- 
sage. 

"  Everything — closed — be — low!  Barom— 
28:00!" 

That  was  a  fall  of  three-hundredths  of  an 
inch  in  less  than  ten  minutes! 

The  Daphne  was  in  a  trap.  Somewhere  near 
her — somewhere  in  the  southern  quadrants  of 
the  compass  between  the  east  and  the  west — the 
center  of  a  storm  was  bearing  down  upon  her. 
Whether  the  barometer  was  lying  or  telling  the 
truth  was  of  little  moment  now.  Lavelle  knew 
he  could  not  be  mistaken  in  the  signs  of  a  re- 
volving storm.  He  knew  the  meaning  of  the 
wolf-like  noises  and  the  wing  creakings  in  the 
air;  the  oily,  sooty,  sight-killing  blackness. 
But  one  sign  was  absent  and,  even  as  he  noted 
this,  it  appeared — a  sickening,  brick-red  color- 
ing which  cuts  the  eyes  acridly  like  hay  smoke. 
It  diffused  itself  through  the  blackness  without 
lessening  the  night's  impenetrability.  With  its 
226 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

coming  the  wind  veered  quickly  from  the  S.S.E. 
into  the  south.  By  the  law  of  storms  this 
change  told  the  lone  man  arrayed  against  the 
sea  that  the  center  was  bearing  upon  the  Daphne 
eight  points  to  the  right,  or  out  of  the  S.S.W. 
The  bark  was  trapped  in  the  storm's  advancing 
or  dangerous  semicircle.  He  could  not  heave 
her  to  now.  There  was  but  one  thing  to  do : 
Eun.  Let  the  storm  overtake  the  bark  and 
catch  her  in  its  vortex  and — the  sea  must  win. 
It  depended  alone  on  the  Daphne's  worthiness 
and  the  hands  and  brain  of  the  man  at  her  helm 
to  beat  it. 

With  a  full-manned  ship  the  thing  to  do  now 
was  heave  to.  The  enraged  man  laughed  to 
himself  at  the  thought  of  his  trying  to  do  this 
alone.  > 

By  half-past  two  the  wind  had  veered  into 
the  S.S.W.  and  was  blowing  a  whole  gale.  Tak- 
ing it  broad  over  the  starboard  quarter  the 
Daphne  was  fleeing  northeast.  At  times  her 
helmsman  was  sure  she  was  lifting  free  of  the 
mauling  waters  and  hurtling  through  space. 
Again  he  felt  that  she  was  bound  headlong  to- 
ward the  quiet  ooze ;  that  no  vessel  could  with- 
stand the  onslaughts  of  wind  and  brine  which 
were  being  rained  upon  her.  But  never  his 
rage  at  the  sea  grew  less.  It  burned  in  him 

227 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

like  a  living  fire;  it  robbed  him  of  all  sense  of 
fatigue. 

Emily,  sitting  in  the  lounge  and  watching  the 
barometer  for  any  change,  saw  the  silver  watch 
mark  the  hour  when  the  day  should  have  been  * 
breaking.  But  no  light  rifted  the  blackness  out- 
side. The  barometer  hand  clung  quivering  at 
28 : 00 !  The  Daphne 's  master — yes,  her  master, 
too — had  told  her  she  must  rest  as  much  as  she 
could.  Not  for  her  own  sake,  but  the  battle's; 
that  was  his  reason.  ' '  Because  I  may  want  to 
use  you!  "  was  what  he  had  yelled  when  she 
had  put  her  ear  up  to  his  lips. 

When  the  watch  said  six  o'clock  and  there 
came  no  day,  Emily  suddenly  realized  what  a 
time  had  passed  since  Paul  had  taken  the  wheel 
from  her  hands — four  hours  and  a  half.  Not  a 
bite  had  crossed  his  lips  in  eleven  hours.  It 
was  impossible  to  get  forward  to  the  galley. 
As  she  admitted  this  she  remembered  the  canned 
provisions  in  the  alleyway  stateroom  opposite 
the  derelict's.  She  recalled  also  the  flour  and 
biscuit  barrels  in  the  starboard  alleyway  state- 
room. 

The  gold  woman  went  caroming  down  the 
companionway  and  through  the  reeling  saloons. 
The  din  of  an  hundred  forges  filled  them.  The 
derelict's  light  was  giving  a  last  flicker.  Daniel 
228 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

McGovern  slept.  As  the  lamp  went  out  Emily 
discovered  her  book  on  the  floor  and  picked  it 
up.  She  put  it  on  a  shelf  in  the  storeroom  and 
fled  with  three  cans  which  she  felt  out  of  the 
darkness.  She  carried  these  up  into  the  lounge. 
One  of  the  cans  held  corn — the  others  tomatoes. 
She  dropped  below  again  and  groped  to  the 
pantry.  She  was  seeking  water.  There  wasn't 
a  drop  in  the  tank.  The  discovery  staggered 
her.  The  man  at  the  wheel  must  drink.  An 
idea  of  a  substitute  flashed  into  her  mind.  The 
tomatoes  would  serve  for  food  and  drink.  She 
located  a  hook  under  the  china  racks  and  found 
a  can  opener  she  remembered  having  seen 
there. 

As  a  glimmer  of  day  asserted  itself  in  the 
blackness,  it  found  Emily  standing  at  the  wheel 
beside  Paul,  holding  a  can  of  tomatoes  up  to 
his  lips  so  that  he  could  drink  when  he  dared. 
He  managed  to  snatch  two  mouthfuls.  Then, 
the  can  was  blasted  out  of  the  girl's  hands.  It 
flattened  itself  against  the  mizzenmast.  The 
tin  cylinder  might  have  been  a  bit  of  cardboard. 
It  held  where  it  struck  for  a  second,  as  if  the 
gale  had  imbedded  it  in  the  steel  mast. 

With  this  sudden  growth  in  the  fury  of  the 
gale  came  the  slightest  increase  of  daylight. 
This  light  seemed  to  spring  from  the  sea;  not 

229 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

from  overhead.  It  was  sufficient  to  trace  what 
lay  forward  of  the  break  of  the  poop.  Two  tall, 
reeling  masts  with  whalebone  tips,  the  edges  of 
the  rails,  an  outline  of  the  top  of  the  forward 
house,  and  the  forecastle  head  rising  out  of  a 
roil  of  waters  composed  the  suggestion  to 
Emily's  mind  that  that  part  of  the  Daphne  was 
still  there.  And  all  round  were  ragged  peaks 
of  water  like  the  ice-crusted  crests  of  mighty 
mountains.  They  were  Alps  gone  drunk.  The 
Daphne  was  hurtling  from  one  peak  to  another 
— smashing  through  them. 

The  light  restored  Lavelle's  vision  to  enable 
him  to  read  in  one  glance  the  tally  of  the  battle. 
But  a  ribband  remained  of  the  big  mainsail 
which  he  had  been  unable  to  furl.  The  fore- 
upper  topsail  had  left  only  its  leech  ropes  behind. 
There  was  not  a  head  sail  left  except  the  fore- 
topmast-staysail.  This,  the  maintopmast-stay- 
sail,  the  reefed  foresail,  the  fore  lower  topsail, 
and  the  upper  and  lower  main  topsails  and  the 
spanker  still  held.  The  fore  and  aft  bridges 
were  gone.  A  twisted  stanchion  told  where  the 
standard  compass  had  stood.  The  donkey 
funnel,  the  galley  stovepipe,  and  the  empty  boat- 
chocks  were  missing — the  top  of  the  forward 
house  was  swept  clean. 

Scarcely  had  Lavelle  's  eyes  made  this  assess- 
230 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

ment  when  the  main  upper  topsail  went.  It  split 
with  a  shot-like  crackling.  A  second  later  only 
a  wisp  of  canvas  was  left  to  tell  that  a  sail  had 
ever  been  bent  to  the  yard. 

Anger  burned  in  Emily  at  the  sight.  It  was 
personal — the  ravaging  of  that  sail.  The  gale 
flung  a  cry  of  protest  back  in  her  throat.  The 
slope  of  Paul's  sou'wester  hid  his  face  from 
her.  The  point  of  a  grim  jaw  was  all  that  she 
could  see.  Only  his  arms  moved  with  the  wheel 
in  steadying  the  bark's  drive.  Otherwise  he 
might  have  been  a  fixture  of  the  ship.  It  was 
not  enough  to  be  near  him.  A  yearning  to  hear 
his  voice  came  upon  her;  to  look  in  his  eyes; 
to  read  his  thoughts.  She  caught  him,  jerking 
his  head  to  bring  her  nearer.  She  struggled  up 
in  the  lee  of  him  and  pressed  her  ear  to  his  lips. 

1 '  — piece — bacco !  ' ' 

That  was  all  she  heard.  She  did  not  under- 
stand for  the  moment  what  he  meant.  Then,  it 
dawned  upon  her  wondering  consciousness  that 
he  wanted  a  piece  of  tobacco.  A  piece  of  to- 
bacco !  Her  brain  pounded  on  this  as  if  it  would 
never  let  the  thought  go.  She  fought  her  way 
into  the  lounge,  and  as  she  went  she  remem- 
bered a  box  of  oaky,  black  slabs  which  she  had 
seen  in  the  slop-chest  litter.  She  had  reached 
the  bottom  of  the  companionway  when  the 

231 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

Daphne  gave  a  shuddering  leap.  It  hurled  the 
girl  across  the  saloon  to  leeward.  She  caught 
the  knob  of  a  stateroom  door  and  dragged  her- 
self from  her  knees  to  her  feet.  Looking  for- 
ward, through  the  port  alleyway,  she  saw  a 
flood  of  water  pouring  in  through  the  door  open- 
ing out  on  the  main  deck. 

Instinct  carried  Emily  to  this  breach  in  the 
wall  of  the  bark's  defense.  She  got  her  back 
to  the  door,  like  a  woman  of  the  Zuyder  Zee 
warding  a  broken  dyke  gate,  and  she  closed  it. 
The  strength  of  the  primitive  fighting  man's 
woman  was  hers  in  the  struggle  which  accom- 
plished this.  She  cried  in  anger  as  she  bolted 
the  teakwood  slab  against  the  ravaging  waters. 
Yet  with  this  thing  done,  her  first  thought  was 
that  she  must  get  back  to  the  wheel  with  a  piece 
of  tobacco.  Going  aft,  she  did  not  notice  that 
the  derelict's  berth  was  empty,  but  the  man  at 
the  wheel  knew  that  the  stranger  was  not  there. 

Hardly  had  Emily  left  the  deck  when  the 
fore  lower  topsail  went  tattering  out  of  its  bolt 
ropes.  The  Daphne  shook  herself  as  if  freed 
from  a  leash.  The  man  who  watched  nodded  in 
approval.  Had  it  been  possible  for  him  to  have 
cut  this  sail  away  when  the  main  upper  topsail 
had  gone  he  would  have  done  it.  In  the  mo- 
ment that  he  nodded  he  saw  the  flash  of  a  man's 
232 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

face  going  over  the  rail  in  the  weltej  to  leeward. 
The  face  was  calm.  Death  seemed  already  to 
have  masked  it.  It  was  the  derelict  going 
away. 

"Why,  that — that's  Driscoll — the  quarter- 
master who  was  with  me — stood  by  me — the 
night  the  Yakutat  was  lost !  " 

It  was  thus  in  the  instant  that  the  sea  gulped 
Daniel  McGovern  that  recognition  flashed  into 
Paul  Lavelle's  mind.  But  as  the  thought 
formed  he  put  it  away  from  him.  His  eyes 
were  tricking  him.  A  man  can't  stand  for  six, 
seven,  or  eight  hours — he  had  lost  count  of  time 
— staring  at  a  compass  card  which  whirls  and 
dips  like  a  crazy  roulette  wheel  at  Macao  and 
trust  his  sight.  After  Chang  had  spent  a 
twelve-hour  trick  at  the  Kau  Lung's  wheelhe 
had  imagined  many  strange  things.  The  quar- 
termaster, Driscoll,  had  been  lost  these  ten 
years  past — ten  years  this  very  month  of 
March.  And  the  sea  was  trying  to  make  him 
believe  that  the  derelict  was  he :  endeavoring  to 
trick  his  brain  because  it  couldn't  beat  him  any 
other  way.  This  thought  refueled  his  rage. 

The  belly  of  the  spanker  split  from  head  to 
foot  with  the  sharp  staccato-rattling  of  a  Gat- 
ling.  The  helmsman's  senses  apprehended  it 
as  it  happened.  Before  the  Daphne's  head  had 

233 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

fallen  off  half  a  point  at  this  sudden  release  of 
pressure  on  her  after  part  Lavelle  had  met  it. 

Emily,  struggling  to  force  the  lounge  door 
open  against  the  gale,  saw  and  heard  the 
spanker  go.  It  dazed  her  to  note  that  Lav  el  e 
did  not  glance  up.  She  had  to  throw  herself 
flat  on  the  deck  to  get  to  the  wheel.  Crawling 
up  under  Paul's  lee  she  held  the  tobacco  up  in 
front  of  him,  keenly  wondering  what  he  meant 
to  do  with  it.  She  had  been  able  to  imagine  only 
that  he  intended  to  use  it  in  some  mysterious 
way  in  connection  with  the  compass;  perhaps 
to  keep  the  card  from  rolling  and  whirling. 
Paul  settled  the  mystery  quickly  by  wolfing  a 
corner  of  the  black  plug.  He  nodded  with  sat- 
isfaction as  his  jaws  closed  on  it.  It  seemed 
fantastic  to  the  girl.  She  could  have  screamed 
in  delight — she  who  had  loathed  tobacco  chewers 
as  long  as  she  could  remember.  The  incident 
was  fraught  with  a  message  of  hope  that  words 
could  not  have  conveyed. 

By  signs  Paul  made  Emily  understand  that 
she  was  to  fill  and  trim  the  binnacle  lamp.  This 
task  took  her  below  to  levy  on  the  oil  in  the 
derelict's  lamp  and  the  lamp  in  the  medicine 
chest.  Then  it  was  she  discovered  that  Daniel 
McGovern  had  left  the  Daphne.  She  realized 
how  the  alleyway  door  had  come  to  be  open,  but 
234 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

at  the  time  her  senses  were  beyond  apprehend- 
ing that  a  stranger  had  come  out  of  the  sea  and 
gone  back  to  it.  She  levied  upon  the  storerooms 
again  and  crawled  up  into  the  lounge.  The 
silver  watch  said  noon.  The  barometer  stood 
at  28 : 01 !  When  she  tried  to  open  the  door 
and  get  back  to  Paul  with  food  and  this  news, 
she  could  not  budge  it  more  than  an  inch.  The 
gale  held  it.  She  looked  out  of  the  after 
weather  port.  Through  the  flying  spume  she 
saw  Paul  glance  up.  His  eyes  rested  on  her 
for  a  second.  He  shook  his  head  for  her  to 
stay  where  she  was. 

There  came  a  lull  at  three  o'clock.  Emily's 
recruited  strength  enabled  her  to  fight  her  way 
to  the  wheel  with  another  can  of  tomatoes  and 
some  crackers.  She  replaced  the  lighted  bin- 
nacle lamp.  It  went  out.  Four  times  she  had 
to  return  to  the  lounge  and  relight  it  before 
she  succeeded  in  spiting  the  gale.  As  she 
straightened  up  finally  in  success,  she  saw 
Paul's  gaze  shoot  up  to  windward. 

Not  three  hundred  yards  away  and  abreast 
of  the  Daphne  drove  a  big  four-masted,  painted- 
port  bark — a  bulk  of  twenty-five  hundred  tons 
—under  a  reefed  foresail  and  a  reefed  main 
lower  topsail.  For  a  breath  her  midship  sec- 
tion hung  poised  on  a  peak  of  water,  the  rest  of 

235 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

her  red  underbody,  fore  and  aft,  clear  of  the 
welter.  Her  poles  pierced  the  lowering  sky. 
The  peak  dropped  from  tinder  her  like  the  jet 
of  a  fountain  ceasing.  She  fell  away  into  a 
canon,  wave-walled  higher  than  her  tops.  The 
wind  went  out  of  her  foresail.  The  topsail 
drooped.  She  paused  in  her  flight  like  a 
wounded  bird,  reeled  helplessly;  and  then  the 
wall  of  water  over  her  stern  fell,  pooping  her. 
A  huddle  of  men  started  from  around  the  foot 
of  her  jiggermast.  One  of  them  in  bright  yellow 
oilskins  reached  the  doomed  thing's  port  rail 
and  waved  to  the  Daphne  high  over  him  as  if 
cheering  her  on.  Another  wall  of  water  and 
still  a  third  crashed  upon  her.  Her  bows  rose. 
Stern  first  she  went  down  to  the  port  of  missing 
ships,  a  hurricane  shrieking  her  requiem. 

In  the  twinkling  of  an  eye,  even  as  a  trout 
snatches  a  fly,  this  proud  venture  of  man  was ; 
and  then  it  was  no  more. 

Brain-stunned,  incapable  of  comprehension, 
Emily  crawled  round  the  binnacle  and  got  be- 
hind the  lee  side  of  the  wheel.  In  a  lull  she 
heard  Paul  yelling. 

" — be — low!  Eat — rest!  Need — help — by 
and " 

She  obeyed  as  one  in  a  trance.  As  the  lounge 
door  banged  behind  her  the  comparative  quiet 
236 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

within,  though  it  was  a  veritable  orgy  of  sound, 
enveloped  her  senses  like  a  drug. 

It  was  seven  o'clock  when  she  awoke. 
Through  the  weather  port  she  saw  the  yellow- 
colored  head  at  the  wheel  touched  by  a  gleam 
of  the  binnacle  light.  Seventeen  hours  now  he 
had  been  standing  there  like  that.  She  lighted 
the  lounge  lamp.  The  barometer  stood  at 
28 : 00. 

When  she  fought  her  way  out  to  him  with 
this  word  and  shrieked  it  at  him  he  simply 
nodded  that  he  heard. 

' '  When  —  are  —  you  —  going  to — let — me — 
help?  " 

She  succeeded  in  crying  this  question  into  his 
ear  in  segments. 

"Damn  it!    Shut— up!" 

He  cried  this  at  her  savagely. 

In  that  instant  the  Daphne  paused  slightly. 
A  shiver  went  through  her.  There  was  a  crash 
which  sounded  even  above  the  roar  of  the 
storm.  It  was  as  if  a  masked  battery  had  am- 
bushed the  bark  from  overhead.  The  foretop- 
gallant  mast  and  all  its  hamper  and  everything 
above  the  crosstrees  on  the  main  were  going  by 
the  board.  A  streak  of  lightning  illuminated 
the  gale's  work. 

Emily  found  the  end  of  the  gasket  with  which 

237 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

Paul  was  lashed  to  the  wheel  shaft.  She  tied  it 
around  her  waist  and  took  hold  of  the  lee  wheel. 
It  was  her  answer  to  his  savagery.  He  saw 
what  she  did  and  he  did  not  send  her  away. 

Thus,  with  never  a  word,  they  stood  together 
for  two  hours  during  the  height  of  the  storm, 
hurtling  along  the  coast  of  eternity. 

Of  a  sudden  there  came  a  rift  in  the  clouds 
overhead.  A  shaft  of  moonlight  shot  through 
the  blackness  and  Paul's  hand^covered  the  gold 
woman's  in  a  gentle  pressure  where  it  clutched 
a  spoke. 

" — think — beaten — it!  "  he  shouted  at  her 
presently.  " — thirsty!  ' 

Emily  unlashed  herself  and  brought  him  an- 
other can  of  tomatoes.  She  took  her  post  be- 
side him  again  without  a  word.  By  midnight 
the  gale's  back  was  broken.  The  sea  kept  drop- 
ping with  the  lessening  of  the  wind.  It  was 
long  after  dawn,  however,  when  Paul  umashed 
himself  from  the  wheel  and  put  Emily  in  his 
place. 

"  You  take  her  now  for  a  few  minutes,"  he 
said  in  a  broken  husky  voice.  "  Going  heave 
her  to." 

He  started  forward.  His  legs  went  out  from 
under  him.  He  struggled  to  his  feet  only  to 
drop  again.  He  got  up  moaning  and  with  a 
238 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

curse  on  his  lips.  Clutching  the  rail  he  reeled 
down  to  the  main  deck. 

Emily  heard  the  palls  of  the  capstan  and  then 
Paul's  voice  came  to  her  in  a  pathetic  wail. 

"  Hard  down!  Hard  down!  "  he  cried,  but 
it  was  a  sweep  of  his  arm  which  carried  his 
meaning  to  her.  In  obeyance  she  rolled  the 
wheel  over.  The  Daphne  came  round  on  her 
heel,  until  the  maintopsail,  flying  aback,  hove 
her  to. 

Paul  staggered  aft  again,  balanced  the  wheel 
and  put  it  in  beckets. 

"I'm  pretty  tired — tired,"  he  said  in  a  whis- 
per. He  crumpled  in  exhaustion  where  he  had 
fought  for  thirty  hours.  Blood  oozed  from  the 
ends  of  his  swollen  fingers.  His  eyes  lay  far 
back  in  his  head.  His  breath  came  in  moans 
and  sobs. 


239 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

PAIN  which  stabbed  with  daggers  of  fire  and 
ground  and  twisted  like  the  working  of  cogs 
stirred  Paul  about  noon  into  consciousness. 
He  laj  across  the  wheel  grating  where  he  had 
dropped,  nor  had  the  gold  woman's  strength 
been  equal  to  moving  him  inside.  A  pillow  was 
under  his  head;  a  blanket  covered  him.  At  his 
feet  wrapped  likewise  in  a  blanket  and  her  head 
on  one  of  the  lounge  cushions  slept  his  "  part- 
ner." As  the  hard  deck  was  his  pallet,  so  she 
had  chosen  to  make  it  hers.  He  realized  the 
wonderful  meaning  of  this  with  a  thrill  which 
lifted  the  daze  from  his  aching  brain  and  eyes. 

With  the  instinct  which  has  been  given  to 
women  alone  to  serve  and  watch  by  sense  Emily 
awoke  in  the  instant  that  Paul  moved  to  a  sit- 
ting posture.  Their  glances  met  in  a  smile  of 
trustful,  mutual  understanding. 

"  Well,  partner,"  Paul  said  drily  and  look- 
ing round  the  Daphne,  l 1  we  are  a  bit  battered, 
but  I  think  we  may  say — we  are  still  in  the 
ring. ' ' 

The  humanness  of  the  little  speech  lifted  the 
cloud  of  the  night  from  her  spirit.  Sht 
240 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

laughed.  This  man  could  fight  as  she  had  never 
dreamed  it  possible  that  human  brain  and  flesh 
could,  and  when  it  was  all  over  he  could  smile. 
She  brushed  away  a  mist  which  gathered  on 
her  lashes  and  struggled  to  her  feet. 

"  And  it  is  worth  everything  to  be — be  here 
in  the  ring — all  the  battering — all  the  strife — 
with  you — a  partner  like  you." 

"  Thank  you.    That  pays  for  everything." 

As  Paul  spoke  he  struggled  halfway  to  his 
feet  only  to  sink  back  again  with  his  breath 
catching  in  pain.  His  left  hand,  with  which  he 
had  tried  to  pull  himself  up,  fell  from  the 
wheel.  He  compared  it  with  his  right.  Both 
were  swollen  and  purple.  The  cuffs  of  the  oil- 
skin coat  dropped  back  and  showed  his  shirt 
wristbands  choking  the  flesh.  But  it  was  not 
his  hands  that  hurt  so  much  as  it  was  his  feet. 
They  seemed  ready  to  burst  the  shoes. 

A  sob  broke  from  Emily  at  his  helplessness. 
She  dropped  on  her  knees  at  his  side  and  picked 
up  his  right  hand.  All  the  tenderness  of  her 
woman  nature  was  alive  in  the  instant. 

"  What  is  it,  Paul?  Your  feet — your 
hands ! ' ' 

Tears  choked  further  utterance.  Alarm  for 
his  safety  seized  her.  A  terrible  apprehension 
touched  her  heart. 

241 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

"  There  never  was  a  battle  fought  without 
somebody  getting  hurt."  He  tried  to  smile 
despite  his  pain.  "  Remember  I  was  at  the; 
wheel  a  pretty  long  time. ' ' 

"  More  than  thirty  hours." 

"  That  long?  "  He  nodded.  "  Please  get  me 
a  knife — there  ought  to  be  one  in  the  pantry." 

"  A  knife?  "  she  repeated  with  misgiving. 
He  nodded. 

Emily  hastened  below  and  returned  with  a 
small  sharp  carver.  Paul  held  out  both  hands 
to  her. 

"  Cut " 

She  shrank  from  him  with  a  cry.  His  smile 
at  the  thought  which  he  read  in  her  eyes  made 
her  study  him  with  a  strange,  frightened 
.glance. 

"  Not  my  hands — the  wristbands,  partner." 

She  severed  the  wristbands  and  the  tears 
which  fell  on  the  bruised  hands  seemed  for  the 
moment  to  salve  their  hurt.  He  offered  to  take 
the  knife  then,  but  she  knelt  quickly  at  his  feet 
and  slashed  the  wet,  binding  leather  from  the'm. 
The  while  she  did  it  he  kept  abjuring  her  to 
be  careful  not  to  cut  off  a  foot  by  mistake.  He 
would  have  been  silent  could  he  have  known 
how  sacred  to  this  woman  was  the  doing  of  this 
personal  service  for  him.  But  it  was  just  ae 
242 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

well  that  he  was  not  silent,  for  as  she  saw  what 
the  sea  had  done  to  him  it  took  the  last  element 
of  her  will  to  keep  from  breaking  down. 

"  Now  you  must  go  and  lie  down,"  she  urged 
when  she  had  helped  him  to  get  up  to  a  stand- 
ing position. 

"  No,  I  must  keep  going.    I " 

He  swayed  and  sank  to  his  knees.  His  will 
nor  her  strength  could  keep  him  up.  He  gritted 
his  teeth  in  rebellion. 

"  I  must  get  up!    I  will — and  go  on!  " 

This  came  from  him  in  a  savage  cry.  He 
tried  to  rise  again.  He  got  one  foot  under  him 
and  then  fell  inertly  with  his  back  against  the 
side  jof  the  lounge  house.  Abused  Nature  would 
have  her  due. 

The  sight  of  this  strong  man  down,  helpless, 
tore  the  heart  of  the  gold  woman  from  its 
moorings.  She  knelt  beside  him,  agony  blind- 
ing her  with  tears. 

"  Paul,  you  must  listen  to  me,"  she  pleaded 
passionately.  "  You  must  let  me  help  you  in- 
side— where  you  can  rest — where  I  can  do 
something  for  you  —  something  to  bring 
back  your  strength — bathe  your  hands  and 
feet." 

' '  No,  no ;  not  that, ' '  he  protested  faintly. 

A  gentle  relaxation  of  mind  and  body  was 

243 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

stealing  over  him  under  the  pressure  of  the  ami 
with  which  she  supported  his  head. 

"  But  you  must,"  Emily  went  on.  "  It  is 
my  part — my  duty,  my  privilege !  I  will  do  it ! 
You  must  do  as  I  say  until  you  are  well  and 
strong.  It  will  not  be  long." 

The  rebellion  of  his  spirit  grew  quiet  under 
the  influence  of  her  surpassing  tenderness.  He 
thought  it  pleasant  to  have  somebody  say  must 
to  him. 

"  Look,  Paul,  the  ocean  grows  calmer  with 
the  minutes.  The  skies  are  clearing.  There  is 
nothing  we  could  do " 

"  But  there's  so  much  to  do "    His  senses 

began  slipping  away.    He  was  able  to  murmur 
only,  "  Water,"  before  a  long  blank  came. 

The  gold  woman  looked  round  for  the  water 
canister  which  she  had  filled  and  brought  aft 
when  Paul  had  collapsed  and  fallen  asleep.  It 
lay  overturned  down  to  leeward.  Laying  his 
head  on  a  pillow  she  ran  forward  and  refilled  the 
canister.  At  the  first  sup  which  she  was  able 
to  force  into  his  mouth  he  opened  his  eyes. 

"  More,  more,"  he  pleaded  when  she  would 
have  taken  the  canister  from  his  lips,  thinking 
he  could  drink  no  more.  "  Oh,  that  is  so  good," 
he  sighed,  finishing  the  draught.  * '  I  feel  much 
better  already." 
244 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

Although  Paul  smiled  bravely,  his  eyes  be- 
trayed him.  Emily  saw  that  he  was  fighting  to 
conceal  a  great  pain. 

"  Come,  Paul."  She  lifted  his  head  again. 
* '  You  must  try  to  get  inside.  You  must  do  this 
for  me." 

He  looked  up  into  her  face,  and  there  was 
that  in  it  which  filled  him  with  meekness. 

"I'll  do  what  you  say,"  he  answered  in  a 
whisper,  and  he  summoned  his  last  reserve  of 
strength. 

On  hands  and  knees  he  crawled  into  the 
lounge,  Emily  taking  as  much  weight  from  his 
swollen  wrists  as  she  could.  She  cut  the  oil- 
skin coat  from  his  shoulders  so  that  he  should 
not  suffer  the  pain  of  having  the  sleeves  drawn 
over  his  hands.  She  spread  a  berth  deftly,  hur- 
ried below,  and  returned  with  dry  comfortable 
clothing  which  she  found  in  the  lockers  under 
the  skipper's  bed.  The  slop-chest  supplies  were 
soaking  in  the  water  which  had  come  in  before 
she  had  succeeded  in  shutting  the  alleyway  door. 
She  went  below  again  and  brought  lint  and 
bandages  from  the  medicine  chest.  All  of  these 
things  she  did  without  suggestion.  It  was  part 
of  the  new  efficiency  unto  which  she  had  won. 
Had  she  been  trained  to  do  what  she  did  she 
could  not  have  done  it  more  thoroughly.  This 

245 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

man  whom  she  served  might  have  been  her  own 
child. 

Watching  her  quick  movements  from  where 
he  sat  on  the  floor  of  the  lounge,  Paul  wondered 
whence  she  was  drawing  the  strength  that  was 
denied  him.  Nor  was  it  given  to  either  of  them 
to  understand  this  strength  which  love  can  bring 
to  its  service.  It  is  something  not  to  be  under- 
stood. 

"  Why  are  you  able  to  do  this  and  why  am 


"  Because  you  have  rendered  your  service,  " 
she  interrupted.  "  You  made  me  rest.  You 
stood  alone  through  all  the  fight.  At  times  I 
rebelled  at  it,  but  now  I  am  glad.  I  slept  this 
morning  and  --  "  She  paused  with  a  shudder. 
"  I  know  I  must  have  slept  —  or  gone  out  of  my 
senses  —  during  the  storm.  There  are  blanks— 
so  many—  We  are  all  alone  again,  you  know. 
The  derelict  --  " 

"  I  know.  Please  don't  think  of  it  now. 
Please  -  " 

"  No  —  we  will  not  think  of  it,"  she  said  with 
an  effort.  "  Come." 

She  bent  over  him  to  help  him  to  the  waiting 
berth.  A  plait  of  her  hair  swept  his  lips.  He 
kissed  it  as  she  drew  it  back  and  tossed  it  over 
her  shoulder.  Her  bosom  touched  his  head. 
246 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

She  did  not  know  that  she  was  but  adding  tor- 
ture to  his  pain. 

"  No,  partner,"  he  protested  quickly.  "  I 
have  let  you  do  too  much  already.  Let  me  try 
alone." 

By  elbow  and  knee  he  crawled  up  on  the  berth 
and  sat  down. 

"  There,"  he  said  with  a  small  note  of  tri- 
umph, and  he  was  fearful  of  meeting  her  gaze, 
for  he  sensed  that  she  stood  waiting.  * '  I  think 
—if—  See  how  she's  heading,  please." 

He  looked  out  through  the  door  at  the  wheel 
jerking  in  its  beckets  like  a  horse  champing  a 
bit. 

Emily  went  swiftly  to  the  binnacle. 

"  West  nor 'west,"  she  called. 

"  Then  this  breeze  ought  to  be  about  nor  'nor  '- 
west."  He  paused,  and  then  added  quickly  as 
he  saw  her,  in  all  of  her  innocence,  coming 
back :  f 

"  If  I  could  get  something  warm  to  drink- 
some  coffee — or  tea.  Do  you  think " 

"But  you " 

"I'm  sure  I  can  do  a  lot  for  myself  now. 
See." 

He  lifted  his  arms  over  his  head.  By  a  levy 
on  all  his  will  he  concealed  the  pain  which  tore 
him  at  the  effort.  It  satisfied  her. 

247 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

"  You  shall  have  something  warm  to  drink  as 
soon  as  these  hands  can  make  it,"  she  said,  and 
as  he  heard  her  going  forward  he  threw  himself 
on  the  berth  and  buried  his  face  in  the  pillow 
to  smother  the  cry  of  anguish  which  his  lips 
refused  to  stay. 

Swiftly  as  Emily  moved  to  her  task,  it  took 
her  longer  than  she  had  imagined  it  would  to 
prepare  something.  The  galley  was  in  a  litter 
of  wreckage  and  the  range  was  water-soaked 
where  the  sea  had  poured  through  the  unpro- 
tected vent  left  by  the  swept-away  stovepipe. 
When  she  returned  aft  again  it  was  to  awaken 
Paul  from  a  doze.  In  the  meantime  he  had  suc- 
ceeded in  changing  into  the  dry  clothing  she  had 
laid  out  for  him.  He  had  also  bandaged  his 
ankles  and  wrists. 

The  gold  woman  brought  tea  and  hardtack 
biscuits  and  a  jar  of  marmalade. 

"  It  was  the  best  I  could  do  quickly,"  she 
explained,  raising  the  chart  table  and  placing 
the  things  on  it.  The  table  had  fallen  some 
time  during  the  night  and  the  silver  watch  lay 
dashed  in  pieces  on  the  floor,  its  parts  mingling 
with  the  internals  of  the  barometer  which  had 
been  torn  from  its  fastenings.  The  sextant,  un- 
damaged, lay  where  it  had  been  hurled  on  the 
starboard  bench  or  berth  opposite  Paul. 
248 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

"  It's  all  right,  partner,"  Paul  said  as  Emily 
discovered  the  broken  things.  "  Don't  worry." 

When  it  came  to  drinking  his  tea  his  hands 
could  not  hold  the  mug  in  which  she  was  com- 
pelled to  serve  it.  She  gave  it  to  him  mouthful 
by  mouthful.  The  hot  drink  was  stimulating. 
There  was  satisfaction  of  hunger,  too,  in  the 
biscuits  and  marmalade.  She  stopped  feeding 
him  and  drank  and  ate  something  only  when 
he  closed  his  lips  firmly  and  turned  his  face 
from  her. 

And  all  the  while  there  was  raging  within 
him  a  battle  against  the  impulse  of  his  consum- 
ing love  to  take  this  wonderful  innocent  woman 
to  his  breast.  Had  he  not  won  the  right  to  tell 
her  that  he  loved  her?  a  voice  within  kept  re- 
peating, and  always  the  specter  of  the  past, 
armed  with  the  resolution  of  silence  he  had 
formed  two  days  before,  cried:  "  No;  unless 
you  are  a  coward." 

"  I  think  I  will  sleep,"  Paul  said  presently, 
when  Emily  offered  to  rub  and  rebandage  his 
ankles. 

"  Is  it  because  you  do  not  wish  me  to  do  it!  " 

' '  Why,  no.    Of  course  not. ' ' 

"  You  thought  nothing  of  doing  it  for  me. 
You  have  done  everything  for  me  and  with  a 
tenderness  that  I  can  remember  only  as  part  of 

249 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

my  mother.  You  are  so  tender  and  again  you 
are  so  harsh — as  hard  and  cold  as  steel." 

"  The  sea  makes  one  harsh —  -"  He  could 
not  control  his  voice  and  he  stopped  short  in 
fear  of  whither  he  might  be  led.  He  noticed 
then  for  the  first  time  that  Emily's  skirt  was 
clinging  to  her  damply.  "  Do  please  go  below 
and  get  into  some  fresh,  dry  clothing.  The 
thought  that  you  are  looking  out  for  yourself 
will  help  me  to  sleep.  Do  try  to  lie  down,  too." 

"  If  there  is  nothing  more  I  can  do  here  I 
will  go,"  she  said  obediently.  "  But  it  is  a 
strange  thing :  With  all  the  wetting  I  have  un- 
dergone I  have  not  the  sign  of  a  cold." 

"  Salt  water  ought  to  have  at  least  one  vir- 
tue," he  answered.  As  he  spoke  he  nodded  for 
her  to  go  below. 

Paul  Lavelle  slept  only  for  a  few  minutes  at 

time,  if  he  really  slept  at  all  during  the  next 
couple  of  hours.  He  heard  the  gold  woman 
descend  the  companionway  and  he  followed  her 
footsteps  through  the  cabin.  Even  when  all  was 
quiet  below  and  he  knew  that  Emily  must  be 
lying  down  wakefulness  rode  his  brain.  He 
could  see  the  future  stretching  away  in  loneli- 
ness without  this  woman  in  his  life,  and  for 
the  first  time  in  all  the  suffering  he  had  known 
he  thought  of  a  way  out.  In  his  blackest  hours 
250 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

of  the  past  ten  years  this  had  never  occurred 
to  him.  To  fight  on  to  the  end  without  cease, 
with  never  a  let-up  in  the  drive,  had  been  the 
ruling  impulse  of  his  spirit.  To  fight  on  now 
in  silence  and  give  life  to  this  precious  woman; 
to  stand  up  manfully  no  matter  what  the  odds, 
with  his  whole  soul  in  the  battle,  until  he  should 
bring  her  to  safety — this  was  the  one  course. 
After  that  there  would  be  a  way  if  it  were 
denied  him  that  he  should  not  suffer  death  in 
the  giving  of  life  to  her.  A  gnawing  pain  in 
his  left  hand  finally  drew  his  attention  to  it. 
He  saw  that  the  .green  jade  ring  which  he  had 
worn  constantly  since  leaving  Yokohama  was 
choking  the  finger  which  it  encircled.  He  sat  up 
to  take  it  off,  and  as  he  did  so  he  was  startled 
to  hear  a  strange  heavy  footfall  in  the  cabin. 
He  was  on  the  point  of  trying  to  rise  when 
Emily  came  up  through  the  companionway.  It 
was  her  footfall  that  had  alarmed  him.  As  her 
head  and  shoulders  rose  above  the  teakwood 
rail  around  the  staircase,  the  sun,  now  far  down 
in  the  west,  shot  a  golden  beam  through  the 
port  over  Paul's  berth.  It  touched  her  head 
with  the  fire  of  a  divine  beauty. 

"  Oh,  I  woke  you,"  she  whispered  tremu- 
lously, and  at  the  same  time  she  sensed  his  de- 
pression of  spirit. 

251 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

11  No,  I  was  awake,"  was  all  he  could  say 
for  the  moment.  It  came  from  his  lips  in  a 
barely  audible  voice. 

To  be  loved  by  and  by  love  to  possess  a 
woman  like  this — the  world,  aye  a  thousand 
worlds — were  well  lost !  That  was  the  thought 
which  excluded  everything  else  from  his  mind. 

The  glow  of  a  sleep  which  had  refreshed  and 
restored  lingered  in  the  cheeks  of  the  gold 
woman  and  in  the  tips  of  her  shelly  ears.  Her 
mouth  was  retouched  with  its  natural  delicate 
scarlet.  Her  sensitive  nostrils  quivered  at  the 
sunlight's  touch.  Her  blue-shirted  bosom, 
heaving  ever  so  slightly  from  the  exertion  of 
climbing  the  companionway,  moved  the  loose 
plaits  of  her  hair  hanging  over  her  shoulders 
like  ropes  of  molten  gold.  Hardship  had  drawn 
her  features  only  slightly.  Youth's  capacity 
of  quick  recovery  was  hers.  Physically  she  was 
little  changed,  but  there  was  a  subtle  difference 
in  her.  Her  whole  being  now  seemed  to  breathe : 
"  I  have  no  doubt  of  life." 

"  I've  changed  and  slept,"  she  said  as  Paul's 
glance  swept  her.  "  I  feel  as  if  there  had  never 
been  a  storm." 

She  stepped  backward  with  a  smile. 

"  Are  you  laughing  at  them!  "  she  asked. 
She  drew  back  her  skirt  slightly  and  exhibited 
252 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

a  pair  of  rubber  sea  boots  which  were  inches 
too  large  for  her.  There  was  something  boyish 
in  the  action  that  did  draw  a  smile  from  Lavelle. 
"  You  are  laughing,"  she  went  on,  and  pouted 
prettily.  "  But  do  so  as  much  as  you  wish. 
They're  sensible." 

*  *  Bight  you  are.  They  're  the  very  thing  for 
decks  like  this.  We  should  have  thought  of 
them  before." 

"  They're  much  too  large,  but  I've  put  on 
socks  and  socks  and  stuffed  the  toes  with 
things." 

This  statement  of  a  most  obvious  fact  brought 
a  genuine  laugh  from  Paul.  It  passed  quickly 
as  the  pain  caused  by  the  ring  reasserted 
itself. 

"  Oh,  let  me  do  that  for  you,"  Emily  said, 
crossing  to  his  side.  Before  he  could  object  she 
had  knelt  by  him  and  taken  his  hand.  "  Why 
did  I  not  think  of  this  hours  ago?  Poor,  poor 
fingers.  Am  I  hurting  you?  There?  " 

The  perfume  of  her  hair,  of  her  breath,  of 
her  whole  being  was  about  Mm.  As  the  ring 
came  off  his  hand  closed  on  hers  and  he  slipped 
the  jade,  with  its  strange  seal  in  Chinese  hiero- 
glyphics, over  her  third  finger.  It  was  her  left 
hand  that  he  had  chosen. 

"  I  want  you  to  take  this,  Emily — to  wear 

253 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

it."    He  was  fighting  hard  to  control  his  voice. 
"  Chang  gave  it  to  me  the  day  I  left  Yokohama 
—when  the  old  chap  thought  he  would  never 
see  me  again :  the  day  you  and  I  met. ' ' 
"  But,  Paul,  I Poor  old  Chang  would 


"  You  must  keep  it.  Have  I  never  told  you 
what  it  says — that  seal?  "  She  shook  her  head. 
"  In  Canton  there  is  a  very  old  temple.  It  is 
doubtful  who  built  it.  It  stands  near — not  far 
from  the  Hall  of  the  Five  Hundred  Wise  Men. 
This  seal  is  copied  from  its  altars :  *  Man  has 
many  reckonings  with  man,  but  only  one  with 
God.'  " 

The  gold  woman  looked  up,  starting  to  re- 
peat the  line  as  Paul  finished  it.  What  was  on 
her  lips  died  there,  unutterable  in  the  light  of 
his  gaze,  and  what  it  awakened  in  her.  Her 
eyes  flashed  back  to  his  an  answer  of  fire.  The 
barriers  of  his  determination  crashed. 

' '  Oh,  my  darling !  "  he  cried  in  anguish,  and 
he  drew  her  head  to  his  breast. 

The  gold  woman's  mouth  met  his  and  clung, 
rendering  with  flame  its  first  kiss  of  love. 

1 '  Oh,  I  love  you,  woman  of  all  the  world,  love 
you,  love  you !  I  am  living  alone  by  the  power 
of  this  love.  It  has  been  mine  for  ages.  It  has 
been — it  is  my  strength !  It  is  my  soul !  It  is 
254 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

the  breath  of  my  soul!  Its  single  impulse,  its 
desire,  its  law,  its  life!  ': 

He  held  her  from  him  and  searched  her  face. 

"  And  I  love  you.  I  have  always  loved  you, 
my " 

A  burning  kiss  blurred  the  words  on  her  lips. 

In  silence  they  held  each  other's  gaze  in 
adoration  until  suddenly  a  shadow  of  dread 
darkened  the  man's  face. 

"  Another  storm  such  as  we  have  just  passed 
through We  could  not  live  through  it,  dar- 
ling. There  was  hardly  a  minute  of  last  night 
or  the  day  before  which  did  not  come  armed 
with  a  summons  to  judgment.  And,  oh,  the  bit- 
terness that  was  mine  when  I  thought  that  you 
could  not  know;  that  I  could  not  tell  you  what 
was  in  the  soul  of  me!  ': 

"  But,  Paul,  even  had  death  come  to  us  then, 
I  should  have  known  it — afterward.  I  should 
have  known  it  and  you  would  have  known  that 
I  loved  you." 

The  firm  conviction  of  this  speech  filled  Paul 
with  a  new  kind  of  awe  of  her. 

"  Darling,"  he  murmured,  and  yet,  as  he 
kissed  her  eyes,  the  specter  of  the  past  laid  its 
cold  finger  upon  his  lips.  He  drew  back. 
"  Some  day  you  may  hate  me." 

"Paul,  Paul!    Stop!" 

255 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

Her  voice  was  fraught  with  fear. 

"  If  we  live  the  days  will  come  when — I  come 
to  you  a  broken,  spurned  thing.  I  have  no 
place  among  the  men  of  my  people.  I  am  wild ! 
Crazy !  My  tongue  should  be  torn  from  me  for 
telling  you  what  I  have.  I  have  no  right  to 
tell — I  have  no  right  to  love!  And  you  of  all 

women Emily,  there  is  something — that 

night  on  the  Yakutat,  I  must  tell  you — we  can- 
not  " 

Her  hand  closed  his  lips. 

"  No,  no,  no,  Paul.  You  mustn't.  I  know. 
There  is  nothing  to  tell  me.  There  is  no  past 
to  come  between  us.  From  the  momentjthat  I 
knew  on  the  Cambodia  that  you  were  Paul  La- 
velle  I  knew  the  truth.  There  is  no  past.  But 
there  is  a  future,  my  darling — our  future." 
She  drew  his  head  to  her  and  kissed  his  eyes. 
"  My  fearless  stars.  For  my  faith's  reward  I 
ask  only  this :  Your  silence  until  I  say  you  may 
speak.  Promise. ' ' 

"  I  promise,"  he  answered,  with  a  strange, 
indefinable  hope  burgeoning  in  his  heart. 

As  he  spoke  the  sun  passed  from  the  ports 
of  the  lounge  and  brought  Paul  Lavelle  from 
his  dreaming  to  the  reality  of  a  peril  which 
he  had  too  long  forgotten.  Emily  read  his 
thought. 
256 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

"  I  will  go  forward  and  prepare  our  evening 
meal,"  she  said.  She  kissed  him  and  went  out 
of  the  lounge,  and  at  her  going  torment  ruled 
his  heart. 

"  My  God,  what  have  I  been  doing!  What 
have  I  been  thinking?  Where  is  my  manhood 
that  I  should  be  lying  here  sacrificing  her  7 
What  a  weak,  shameless  love  mine  must  be!  ': 

A  feeling  of  abasement  scourged  him  as  each 
thought  clamored  for  an  answer.  Although  his 
body  rebelled,  he  arose  and  kept  his  feet.  Grop- 
ing below,  he  found  a  pair  of  boots  which  would 
admit  his  ankles  and  went  forward. 

Emily,  with  a  cry  of  amazement,  discovered 
him  suddenly,  standing  in  the  engine  room 
door. 

"  Paul,  you  must  go  back.  You  must  rest," 
she  commanded.  "  It's  clear.  Go  back.  How 
can  you  stand?  ' 

"  There's  too  much  Irish  in  me,  dear,"  he 
answered,  forcing  a  smile.  "  You  must  never 
let  an  Irishman  stop  to  nurse  his  hurts.  He 
can't  keep  his  mind  on  pain  and  the  fight  at  the 
same  time." 

"  But  the  fight  is  over." 

"  It's  never  over — when  the  sea's  on  the  other 
side." 

He  was  determined  and  she  wisely  forbore 

257 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

to  say  anything  else  about  his  physical  condi- 
tion. The  meal  that  she  prepared — the  hot 
coffee,  the  warmth  of  the  galley  fire — brought 
life  in  them  to  a  glow.  Tomatoes  formed  one  of 
the  dishes  she  cooked.  Paul  shuddered  at  the 
sight  of  it. 

"  Not  unless  I  am  starving,"  he  said  sol- 
emnly. 

As  they  rose  from  the  meal  Emily  sensed  that 
something  was  lacking. 

"  Isn't  there  something  else,  dearheart? 
What  is  it  you  wish  you  had?  ' 

'  *  A  good  cigar — a  big,  fat,  black  fellow !  "  he 
laughed.  "  Then,  the  world  would  be  com- 
plete." His  glance  interpreted  his  meaning. 

"  But  there  is  tobacco  aboard  to  chew,"  she 
suggested  with  a  smile. 

' '  I  never  attempted  to  chew  tobacco  but  once 
in  my  life.  I  was  only  a  little  fellow  visiting 
my  grandmother's.  The  gardener  provided  it, 
or  rather  I  took  it  from  his  workbench.  Just 
as  I  settled  down  to  prove  to  myself  that  I  was 
a  man  grandmother  called  me  into  the  house. 
I  was  caught.  In  my  fear  I  swallowed  the  cud." 
He  made  a  wry  face  and  then  went  on  in  a 
dreamy  way:  "  During  the  storm — whether  it 
was  last  night  or  the  night  before,  I  can't  re- 
member— I  thought  if  I  could  only  get  a  piece 
258 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

of  tobacco  to  chew  there  was  no  storm  that 
blew  that  could  put  me  down.  Funny,  wasn't 
it?  " 

Emily  was  silent,  nor  did  Paul  seem  to  notice 
it.  She  could  think  only  of  what  his  stress  of 
mind  must  have  been  during  those  long  black 
hours. 

It  was  his  last  personal  reference  that  even- 
ing to  what  had  happened  during  the  two  nights 
and  a  day  of  the  Daphne's  war  with  the  sea. 
She  felt  that  he  did  not  wish  to  speak  of  it. 
Nor  did  she. 

"  As  soon  as  the  stars  come  out  I  am  going 
to  find  out  where  we  are "  Emily  inter- 
rupted him  with  a  laugh.  "  Where  the  Daphne 
is,"  he  added,  catching  her  thought,  and  joining 
her  laugh. 

"  I  am  with  the  stars,  Paul.  I  feel  as  if  we 
were  alone  in  space  together." 

She  was  standing  beside  him,  looking  out 
through  the  galley  door  at  the  setting  sun.  Hei 
stooped  and  kissed  the  crown  of  her  head  rever- 
ently. 

He  told  her  presently  that  it  was  more  im- 
portant to  put  the  bark  in  a  condition  to  get 
away  from  where  she  was  than  to  find  out 
where  she  was.  One  thing  was  certain:  the 
Daphne  had  plenty  of  sea  room.  The  weather 

259 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

promised  fair  and  therewith  he  summoned  all 
his  strength  to  take  advantage  of  it. 

While  Emily  busied  herself  about  the  galley, 
Paul  renewed  the  fire  under  the  donkey  boiler. 

"  Bully  old  crew,"  he  said  to  the  engine  and 
patting  its  piston  in  the  familiar  way  men  come 
to  treat  inanimate  things  which  serve  them. 
"  Only  you  can't  go  aloft.  You  can  set  sail, 
but  you  can't  furl  it.  But  you're  not  going  to 
fail  us.  You  won't,  will  you?  " 

He  was  starting  aft  to  fill  the  lamps  there 
when  Emily  came  to  thek  engine  room  door. 
The  impulse  of  action  that  was  driving  him  was 
in  her,  too. 

"  Only  give  me  something  to  do,  Paul,  and 
I'll  do  it  just  like  a  real  sailorman." 

' '  Keep  your  eye  on  this  steam  gauge.  When 
it  goes  to  sixty,  open  the  fire  door.  It  mightn't 
be  a  bad  idea  if  you  learned  to  sound  the 
ship.  There's  the  sounding  rod  on  that  hook. 
You  will  find  the  well  between  the  pumps. 
Come.  I'll  show  you." 

"  I  know  where  it  is,"  she  said  eagerly. 

A  half -foot  of  water  was  sloshing  in  the  port 
alleyway  and  in  and  out  of  the  rooms  .opening 
upon  it  as  Paul  entered  the  cabin.  He  found 
the  plug  of  a  scupper  just  inside  the  door  and 
pulled  it  out.  Glancing  out  on  deck,  he  saw  the 
260 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

vent  of  another  scupper.  He  located  this  in 
the  mate's  room.  As  he  pulled  the  plug  free 
and  withdrew  his  hand  a  sheet  of  paper  stuck 
to  it.  Half  curiously  he  carried  it  into  the 
after  saloon  where  he  filled  the  lamps  which 
would  be  most  useful.  It  was  some  writing  of 
the  poor  Sussex  lad's,  was  his  thought.  As  he 
lighted  the  first  lamp  the  paper  caught  his  eye 
again.  He  picked  it  up.  The  first  line  startled 
him  and  led  his  eyes  leaping  through  the  rest 
of  the  water-blurred  text  in  a  breathless  com- 
prehension. 

"  In  the  name  of  God,  Amen :  Being  of  sound 
and  disposing  mind,  I,  Emily  Granville, 
spinster,  of  San  Francisco,  California,  do  de- 
clare this  my  last  will  and  testament :  After  the 
payment  of  all  just  debts  the  rest,  residue  and 
remainder  of  my  estate,  real  and  personal, 
wherever  it  may  be,  of  which  I  die  possessed,  is 
bequeathed  to  Paul  Lavelle,  sometimes  called 
Whitridge.  I  hereby  revoke  all  wills  hereto- 
fore made  by  me.  In  the  event  of  the  said  Paul 
Lavelle,  sometimes  called  Whitridge,  not  sur- 
viving, I  direct  that  one-fourth  of  my  entire 
estate  be  divided,  share  and  share  alike,  among 
those  named  in  said  former  wills  and  that  the 
three-fourths  remainder  be  converted  by  the 
State  into  a  fund  to  be  used  and  administered 
by  the  State  for  the  succor  and  assistance  of 
all  persons,  regardless  of  race  or  creed,  who 

261 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

may  suffer  by  disaster  upon  any  of  the  seas. 
I  further  direct  that  this  fund  shall  be  known 
as  the  Lavelle-Granville  fund.  If  any  heir 
under  the  said  former  wills  shall  contest  this 
will,  Paul  Lavelle  surviving  or  not  surviving, 
they  shall  forfeit  to  him  or  the  said  fund  any 
interest  they  may  have  had  or  may  claim  in 
the  said  estate  and  receive  $1.  I  do  this  in 
the  realization  of  the  imminent  peril  of  death 
and  as  a  testimony  to  the  genuine  manhood  of 
Paul  Lavelle ;  and  also  in  memory  of  my  father. 
My  faith  is  that  Paul  Lavelle  in  justice  must 
survive  and  that  this^ill  shall  come  to  the  eyes 
of  men  properly  and  without  suspicion.  The 
language  I  have  used  is  remembered  from  my 
father's  will  with  the  hope  that  it  will  be  bind- 
ing legally. 

"  Aboard  the  bark  Daphne  at  sea,  March  31, 
191—. 

"  EMILY  GBANVILLE." 

Paul  Lavelle  read  this  wonderful  document 
a  second  and  even  a  third  time.  It  was  epic  in 
his  sight.  He  really  had  no  distinct  thought. 
His  mind  was  whelmed  by  awe  of  the  char- 
acter of  the  gold  woman  which  the  wet  sheet  of 
paper  revealed.  There  came  to  him  a  picture 
of  her  writing  at  the  desk  in  Elston's  room  on 
the  evening  of  the  day  they  had  come  aboard 
the  Daphne.  It  was  then  that  she  had  written 
this  will.  He  kissed  the  paper  because  it 
262 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

seemed  part  of  her  and  then  tore  it  into  little 
bits. 

Emily  was  withdrawing  the  sounding  rod 
from  the  well  when  Paul  returned  to  the  deck. 
Plainly  she  was  in  distress. 

"I'm  afraid,  Paul,  I'm  a  poor  sailor,"  she 
said  as  he  came  to  her  side.  ' '  I  can 't  tell  any- 
thing from  this. ' ' 

Paul  took  the  rod  from  her  and  dried  it. 

"  You  sounded  as  the  ship  rolled.  The  way 
to  do  is  to  wait  until  she  comes  on  an  even  keel. 
Like  this.  Now." 

"  That  is  just  the  way  I  did." 

A  moment  later  he  hauled  the  rod  out  and 
gasped  in  dread.  It  showed  four  and  one-half 
feet  of  water  in  the  Daphne's  hold! 

There  surged  through  him  a  second  later  the 
rage  with  which  he  had  met  and  fought  the 
storm.  Here  was  a  new  and  unexpected  gage 
of  battle.  It  swept  from  him  the  last  vestige 
of  pain  and  fatigue.  Instantly  the  suggestion 
of  flame,  characteristic  of  the  man  in  action, 
marked  his  every  movement. 

"  She's  an  iron  vessel  with  a  coal  cargo,"  he 
hurriedly  told  Emily.  "  If  the  storm  has 

strained  her "    A  mist  came  into  his  eyes 

and  he  glanced  overside.     "  That  cursed  sea 
isn't  going  to  get  you!    It  isn't!    Come  on!  ' 

263 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

Emily  exhibited  but  a  momentary  apprehen- 
sion of  danger.  The  joy  of  working  with  Paul 
in  a  freely  admitted  equality  swept  it  away. 
The  only  recognition  of  her  femininity  was  his 
insistence  upon  her  wearing  a  pair  of  gloves 
which  he  had  brought  from  McGavock's  room. 

Together  they  got  the  pumps  rigged  to  the 
donkey  engine  and  started  them  sucking  two 
black  streams  out  of  the  hold. 

"  Two  hours  .will  tell  us  whether  the  enemy's 
in  force  or  not — maybe  sooner,"  Paul  said  as 
he  left  Emily  to  go  about  the  ship  with  a  lan- 
tern to  discover  if  possible  if  the  Daphne  had 
sprung  a  leak  in  her  topsides.  When  he  came 
to  the  fore  hatch  his  hopes  lifted  at  the  thought 
that  the  sea  might  have  entered  here  through 
the  uncalked  and  untarpaulined  covers.  It  was 
a  dreary  tangle  of  hamper  which  met  his  gaze 
in  this  part  of  the  vessel.  For  an  instant  he 
was  puzzled  to  observe  that  everything  he 
touched  left  a  black,  oily  smear.  He  crawled 
up  under  the  forecastle  head  and  there  found 
what  he  considered  an  explanation  of  the 
Daphne's  survival.  Two  barrels  of  engine  oil 
were  lashed  to  the  heel  of  the  bowsprit.  One 
of  these  had  been  sprung  by  the  storm  and  was 
still  weeping  its  contents  upon  the  deck.  It  was 
this  oil  running  out  of  the  hawse  pipes  and  the 
264 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

scuppers  which  had  calmed  the  bark's  tem- 
pestuous way. 

This  discovery  relieved  Paul's  mind.  He  had 
felt  compelled  to  believe  that  at  times  during 
the  storm  either  he  or  the  vessel  had  been  be- 
witched. In  all  his  long  experience  he  had 
never  seen  a  vessel  make  such  good  weather  of 
things  as  the  Daphne.  If  he  had  been  in  com- 
mand with  a  full  crew  under  him  he  would  have 
poured  out  oil  just  as  accident  had  done  it.  Go- 
ing aft  he  paused  to  tell  Emily  about  the  oil 
and  to  report  everything  apparently  tight  for- 
ward. 

"  A  barrel  of  oil  didn't  stand  for  more  than 
thirty  hours'  steering,  did  it?  "  she  asked,  with 
pride  flashing  from  her  eyes. 

In  silence  Paul  went  on  aft  to  complete  his 
examination  of  the  ship.  It  felt  strange  to  have 
a  champion.  He  found  the  cabins  practically 
free  of  water.  Everything  seemed  tight.  He 
stopped  for  a  second  in  the  derelict's  door. 

"  Poor  old  fellow  was  out  of  his  head,"  he 
muttered.  There  came  to  him  a  picture  of  the 
stranger's  departure.  The  loss  of  this  man, 
with  only  a  flicker  of  life  and  mind  in  him,  was 
but  a  small  thing  compared  with  the  destruction 
of  the  four-master  and  all  hands  in  the  fullness 
of  strength.  But  the  thought  of  the  derelict 

265 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

moved  Paul  with  a  great  tenderness.  This  man 
had  known  his  father. 

"  He  believed  I  was  '  The  Prince/  "  he 
mused.  "  Well,  father,  if  there's  any  way  of 
knowing — and  I'm  sure  there  must  be — you 
know  I've  tried  to  play  the  game  squarely." 

An  unsettling  thought  broke  in  upon  this. 
What  had  made  him  think  that  the  derelict  was 
Driscoll,  a  quartermaster  of  the  Yakutat?  He 
shut  his  mind  against  what  he  believed  was  a 
vagary.  There  was  no  doubt  that  he  must  have 
been  out  of  his  senses  many  times  during  the 
storm. 

Making  his  way  through  the  lounge  to  the 
poop  he  paused  to  examine  the  sextant.  It  was 
undamaged.  It  made  him  think  of  the  chronom- 
eter. He  hurried  below  to  the  chart  room  and 
wound  it  and  then  went  forward. 

The  pumps  were  still  bringing  forth  their  two 
black  streams.  Emily  stood  beside  them 
oiling  their  bearings  with  the  touch  of  an 
engineer. 

'*  I  can't  make  out  where  this  water  is  com- 
ing from.  Either  she's  strained  or  it  pounded 
in  through  the  fore  hatch,"  he  told  her. 
"  Everything  about  deck  seems  all  right.  I've 
looked  overside,  too.  Everything  seems  all 
right  there.  Her  masts  went  clear  of  her.  How 
266 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

did  you  manage  to  close  that  bulkhead  door  all 
alone?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  Paul,"  she  answered  frankly. 
She  winced.  "  I  don't  know  where  I  found  the 
strength  to  do  it.  The  whole  sea  was  coming 
in,  it  seemed.  I  remember  I  was  very  angry. 
But  I  have  been  thinking  about  the  stran- 
ger  '  Her  eyes  filled  with  tears.  "  Could 

it  be  that  I — I  shut  him  out  in  the  night — in 
that " 

"  No,  no,  dear,  put  that  thought  away  from 
you  forever.  He  was  gone  beyond  human  aid 
or  recall  before  you  got  below.  I  remember 
your  going  away  from  the  wheel  to  do  some- 
thing. You  had  hardly  closed  the  lounge  door 
when Let  us  not  think  of  it." 

"  He  was "  Emily  interrupted. 

' '  Let  us  shut  out  every  thought  of  those  two 
nights,  dear,  as  long  as  we  can.  Shut  it  out 
with  the  past.  Soon  enough  black  nights  like 
that  will  come  between  us.  Won't  you  try?  " 

As  Paul  spoke  he  took  one  of  her  gloved 
hands  and  patted  it.  There  was  an  appeal  in 
his  gaze :  a  flash  of  the  old  pain  which  she  had 
been  praying  she  might  never  see  in  those  gray 
eyes  again. 

"  We  will  not  think  of  it,  my  '  prince,'  "  she 
answered. 

267 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

With  a  quick  smile  he  turned  away  and  went 
forward.  She  watched  him  until  he  disappeared 
through  the  door  of  the  sail  room  in  the  port 
side  of  the  forward  house. 

In  less  than  two  hours  there  was  a  sudden 
cessation  of  the  black  streams  from  below  and 
a  weird  moaning  of  the  pumps  where  their 
plungers  pounded  emptily. 

"  Paul!    Paul!  " 

The  gold  woman  sent  this  cry  forward,  and 
as  she  did  so  she  cut  off  the  steam  as  she  had 
seen  Paul  do.  She  thrilled  at  the  sight  of  the 
engine  stopping  at  the  touch  of  her  small  hand. 
She  was  laughing  as  he  came  to  the  engine  room 
door  and  saw  what  she  had  done. 

"  The  pumps—  There  is  no  more  water!  r 
she  cried  eagerly. 

'  *  Give  her  another  turn  and  let  me  hear, ' '  he 
said,  and  he  went  to  the  mainmast. 

Now  the  engine  turned  over  at  a  twist  of  her 
wrist. 

"  Avast!  "  called  Paul  at  the  sound  of  the 
dry  plungers. 

The  engine  stopped  instantly  at  the  word  of 
command.  "  We're  all  right,  Emily.  That 
water  must  have  pounded  through  the  fore 
hatch." 

She  met  him  with  a  laugh  of  sheer  joy  which 
268 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

made  her  even  white  teeth  gleam.  It  was  joy 
at  the  lifting  of  the  cloud  which  had  fallen  upon 
both  of  them  at  the  discovery  that  the  Daphne 
might  have  sprung  a  leak.  It  was  joy,  too, 
that  comprehended  an  ability  to  do  things  with 
her  hands. 

"  I  think  I  should  rather  be  engineer  than 
mate,  Paul.  It  is  a  lot  of  fun  making  this 
engine  go  and  stop." 

"  You  will  have  an  opportunity  to  be  mate, 
engineer,  and  midshipmite  in  another  couple 
of  hours.  We  are  going  to  have  a  bit  of  a  moon 
to-night  and  I  am  going  to  get  as  much  sail 
bent  as  possible." 

Under  the  stimulation  of  some  strong  coffee 
they  began  immediately  afterward  to  bend  sail. 
With  the  donkey  engine's  aid  it  seemed  ridicu- 
lously easy  to  snake  the  heavy  rolls  of  canvas 
out  of  the  sail  room  and  hoist  them  aloft. 
Emily,  with  a  woman's  natural  quickness,  had 
the  trick  of  using  the  hoisting  drums  in  perfect 
control  five  minutes  after  Paul  explained  it  to 
her.  It  did  not  surprise  him  nor  was  this  so 
because  of  any  personal  reason.  She  thought 
when  he  told  her  that  she  was  as  good  a  work- 
ing force  as  any  two  sailors  and  better  than  as 
many  men  landlubbers,  that  it  was  but  an  im- 
pulse of  his  natural  kindness  cheering  her. 

269 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

"  Not  a  bit  taffy,  dear,"  said  he,  noting  her 
doubt.  "  Every  word  true.  Only  thing  a 
woman  lacks  is  bull  strength  and  perhaps  judg- 
ment in  personal  matters." 

The  gold  woman  laughed. 

"  Are  you  arraigning  my  judgment?  "  she 
asked. 

"  No,  but  what  I  said  is  quite  true,"  he  con- 
tinued seriously.  "  You  can  take  a  woman  or 
girl  or  boy  and  in  one  trick  at  a  wheel  teach 
them  to  steer  better  than  men  who  have  spent 
a  lifetime  at  sea." 

Emily  got  that  pleasure  out  of  the  tasks  in 
which  she  helped  which  comes  to  one  working 
under  the  direction  of  another  who  knows  what 
he  is  about.  Nothing  seemed  too  hard ;  nothing 
seemed  hard  enough.  The  will  of  the  man  was 
inspiring.  As  she  watched  him  climbing  aloft 
or  dropping  below  along  a  shroud  or  backstay 
it  seemed  impossible  to  believe  that  he  had  been 
down  and  helpless  but  a  few  hours  before. 

The  moon  came  to  light  their  work.  By  about 
10  o'clock  they  had  bent  a  new  foresail,  a  new 
spanker,  and  new  boom  jib. 

"  That  much  will  give  us  another  little  lease 
on  this  world,"  Paul  said  as  he  called  quits  for 
the  night.  "  To-morrow  morning  we'll  get  a 
couple  more  rags  on  her,  after  some  fashion." 
270 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

But  his  work  was  not  done.  The  while  Emily 
prepared  a  snack  of  supper  he  went  aft  and 
took  two  stellar  observations.  The  reckoning 
that  they  gave  him  was,  indeed,  startling.  The 
Daphne  was  five  hundred  and  eighty-five  miles 
northeast  of  her  last  position!  The  navigator 
could  hardly  believe  his  eyes.  He  took  a  third 
set  of  observations.  The  result  was  the  same. 
There  had  been  times  during  the  storm  when 
he  had  realized  that  the  Daphne  was  driving 
with  terrific  speed.  But  he  had  anticipated 
nothing  like  this.  Yet  in  this  moment  the  sight 
of  her  clean  clipper  underbody  came  to  him  as 
he  had  seen  it  the  morning  he  and  the  gold 
woman  swam  out  from  the  Isle  of  Hope.  Al- 
lowances for  the  distance  made  from  the  first 
noon  until  the  time  the  storm  had  struck  the 
Daphne  and  of  her  drift  all  that  day  gave  him 
the  wonderful  speed  average  of  more  than  six- 
teen knots  an  hour  while  the  storm  lasted. 
Still  doubt  lingered  until  he  drew  out  of  his 
memory  a  day's  work  of  the  famous  clipper 
Flying  Cloud— 433^  statute  miles  from  noon  to 
noon. 

The  Daphne,  by  this  reckoning,  was  lying  in 
the  great  circle  sailing  track  of  vessels  bound 
from  the  Japan  coast  toward  San  Francisco  and 
Puget  Sound.  All  thought  of  trying  to  make 

271 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

the  Hawaiian  Islands  left  him.  The  California 
coast  lay  less  than  three  thousand  miles  to  the 
eastward.  The  prevailing  winds  in  this  track 
from  then  on  would  be  from  the  west  and  north- 
west. The  Daphne,  with  fair  weather,  should 
be  able  to  make  this  distance  in  a  month.  If 
no  vessel  should  rescue  them  they  could  win 
home  in  that  time. 

' '  Oh,  you  Daphne  packet !  "  he  cried  in  glee 
as  he  hurried  forward  to  tell  Emily  the  good 
news.  He  went  with  a  snatch  of  *  *  The  Dread- 
naught  "  bursting  from  him. 

"  'With  everything  drawing  aloft  and  alow 

She's  a  Liverpool  packet!    Lord  God  see  her  go! '" 

Emily  was  on  the  point  of  going  to  the  galley 
door  to  call  him  when  she  caught  that  bit  of 
heart-lifting  song.  A  wild,  compelling  note  of 
the  sea  was  in  it. 

«  We're  homeward  bound  in  a  clipper  ship, 
lassie!  "  he  called  as  he  discovered  her.  Nor 
would  he  eat  or  drink  until  he  had  told  her 
where  the  storm  had  carried  the  Daphne  and 
what  it  meant  to  them.  He  was  like  a  big, 
wholesome  boy  and  she  told  him  so.  His  en- 
thusiasm stirred  her  with  a  desire  to  be  under 
way  immediately.  The  Daphne  became  per- 
sonal in  the  gold  woman's  thoughts  as  Paul 
272 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

described  her  capabilities,  and  therewith  she  un- 
derstood the  love  of  a  man  for  a  ship  which 
women  rarely  do. 

"  Unless  we're  picked  up  by  some  other 
vessel  we'll  be  up  with  the  Golden  Gate  in  less 
than  a  month!  " 

Emily's  face  clouded  at  the  suggestion  of 
another  vessel  rescuing  them.  Paul  laughed. 

"  You  may  not  understand,  but  I  wish  we 
might  sail  the  Daphne  into  our  own  home  port. 
Think  what  a  prize  it  would  mean  to  you." 

A  hope  lived  in  his  heart  for  an  instant  that 
this  might  come  true.  It  was  gone  when  he  an- 
swered her. 

"  The  first  vessel  that  comes  along  we  go 
in  her,  lassie;  and  leave  the  Daphne  to  the  sea." 

Yet  as  Emily  lay  down  in  the  lounge  a  little 
while  later  and  saw  Paul  hang  a  light  of  dis- 
tress in  the  mizzen  rigging,  the  strange  wish 
that  it  would  go  unseen  was  uppermost  in  her 
heart.  She  wanted  the  Daphne  to  remain  his, 
but  she  would  not  admit  to  herself  the  reason 
upon  which  that  hope  was  predicated. 


273 


CHAPTER  XXX 

WITH  the  first  streak  of  day  Paul  was  on 
deck.  The  blow-off  of  the  donkey,  which  he 
had  set  at  a  low  pressure  a  couple  of  hours 
before,  roused  him  from  the  berth  he  had 
stretched  along  the  carpenter's  bench.  Custom 
trains  seafarers  as  it  does  soldiers  on  campaign 
to  live  by  a  broken  sleep  which  the  average 
workaday  citizen  thinks  would  kill  him.  Al- 
though Paul  had  been  up  at  intervals  during  the 
night,  with  an  eye  for  the  weather  and  any 
chance  lights,  he  was  filled  with  an  eager  fresh- 
ness. A  stirring  was  coming  out  of  the  north- 
west. There  was  a  tang  in  it  which  promised 
a  whole  sail  breeze.  It  put  a  song  in  his  heart, 
and  a  little  while  later  Emily  was  awakened  by 
his  clear  voice  ringing  through  the  morning 
air,  "  The  Chanty  of  the  Rio  Grande." 

"  'Where  are  you  going  to,  my  pretty  maid? 

0  away  Rio! 

Where  are  you  going  to,  my  pretty  maid? 
We  are  bou  nd  to  the  Rio  Grande. 
0  away  Rio, 
0  away  Rio, 

Ofare  you  well,  my  bonny  young  girl, 
We  are  bound  to  the  Rio  Grande.'" 

274 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

When  Emily  got  forward  to  the  galley  she 
found  breakfast  waiting. 

"  Why  didn't  you  call  me,  Paul?  "  she  asked 
in  a  tone  of  protest,  and  she  waited  archly  in 
expectancy  of  a  kiss,  but  he  did  not  seem  to 
notice  this.  "  Partners  must  play  fair." 

"  Never  mind,  Emily.  I  can  do  so  little  for 
you.  From  now  on  it  will  be  watch  and  watch 
and  there  will  not  be  much  that  I  can  do  for 
you." 

The  bending  of  a  new  fore  upper  topsail  and 
straightening  out  the  tangle  of  running  gear 
about  decks  occupied  most  of  the  forenoon.  It 
was  not  until  after  luncheon  that  the  Daphne, 
with  Emily  at  the  wheel,  lifted  away  to 
the  eastward  before  a  fresh  northwesterly 
breeze. 

Paul  ran  aft  as  the  bark  entered  upon  her 
task  and  stood  for  a  moment  beside  Emily.  The 
intoxication  which  she  had  first  experienced 
alone  at  the  wheel  was  again  upon  her.  The 
breeze  was  dusting  loose  wisps  of  her  hair  into 
a  halo  which  the  sun  burnished  with  fire. 
Bosom  heaving,  eyes  alight,  her  whole  virgin 
being  alive,  a-thrill  with  love  and  the  sensation 
of  the  Daphne's  motion,  she  presented  a  figure 
which  would  have  given  fame  to  any  brush  that 
could  have  limned  it.  She  might  have  been 

275 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

Daphne  herself,  not  fleeing  from,  but  hastening 
with  her  fresh  treasures  to  meet  Apollo. 

Paul  felt  that  he  dare  not  speak.  He  put  his 
hand  on  the  wheel  to,  haul  the  bark  half  a  point 
closer  to  the  wind.  As  he  drew  it  away  Emily 
touched  it  impulsively. 

"  Good  strong,  honest  man's  hand,"  she  mur- 
mured. 

Their  eyes  met  in  a  flash  in  which  her  soul 
called  to  his  and  trembled  when  echo  only 
seemed  to  answer  it. 

Paul  turned  abruptly  away  to  stray  the 
patent  log  over  the  taffrail.  Then  he  went  for- 
ward in  silence.  When  he  found  himself  a  few 
minutes  later  staring  out  over  the  weather  bow 
he  wondered  how  he  had  gotten  there.  And  the 
gold  woman,  watching  him  until  he  disappeared, 
kissed  the  wheel  spoke  his  hand  had  touched 
and  even  again  in  the  sweet  agony  of  her  love 
when  she  saw  that  it  was  flecked  with  the  blood 
of  his  storm  travail. 

That  evening  Paul  established  the  rule  by 
which  he  thought  it  best  to  work  the  ship. 
Emily  would  stand  a  watch  and  trick  at  the 
wheel  of  two  hours  and  have  three  hours  below. 
His  watch  would  be  three  on  deck  and  two 
below. 
276 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

"  It  isn't  fair,  Paul,"  the  gold  woman  pro- 
tested when  he  explained  it  to  her. 

"It  is  fair,  Emily.  I  wish  I  might  spare 
you  every  bit  of  the  coarse  hard  things  you  have 
to  do." 

"  That's  just  it.  You  are  always  thinking  of 
sparing  me." 

"  Take  your  orders  or  go  to  your  room,"  he 
said  with  a  pretended  seriousness.  Emily 
started  with  a  gasp.  Her  thoughts  leaped  to 
McGovern's  story  of  what  had  happened  on  the 
bridge  of  the  Yakut  at.  This  was  what  Graham 
had  said  to  Paul  that  fateful  night. 

"  I — I  will  take  my  orders,"  she  answered 
in  a  low  voice. 

"  Why,  dear,  what  is  the  matter?  I  didn't 
mean  to  frighten  you.  I'm  a  ruffian.  Bo  for- 
give me. ' ' 

' '  No,  you  should  forgive  me.  I  had  no  right 
to  question  what  you  said.  You  know  best." 

She  drew  in  beside  him  on  the  lee  side  of  the 
wheel. 

"  I've  been  away  from  civilization  so  long 
that  I  imagine  that  I've  forgotten  how  to  speak 
decently  to  white  folk." 

"  Then  I  should  like  to  send  ever  so  many 
men  that  I  know  at  home  where  you  have  been." 

1 1  Bravo !   But '  ever  so  many  men  '  I  " 

277 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 


'  Well,  they  wear  trousers." 
"  You  are  cynical." 


11  No,  observant." 

"I'm  afraid  you  are  a  new  woman." 

"  I  am.  I  have  just  been  reborn.  Oh,  Paul, 
I  have  never  lived  until  now.  I  have  never 
known  what  life  meant.  I  have  lived  as  one 
blind,  incompetent,  thoughtless.  Like  most  of 
those  I  knew  before  you  came  into  my  life  I  had 
just  a  vague  notion  that  the  earth  was  round. 
You  know  the  kind." 

"  Yes.  Take  the  fiction  of  civilization  away 
from  them  and  every  nine  hundred  and  ninety- 
nine  would  perish  overnight." 

"  I  saw  them  in  extremity  aboard  the  Cam- 
bodia. How  many  knew  one  end  of  a  boat  from 
the  other?  They  were  all  thinking  of  living, 
crying  to  live,  and  hardly  one  out  of  ten  knew 
what  to  do  to  save  their  most  precious  posses- 
sion— life. ' ' 

"  There  is  a  big  thought  behind  what  you 
say." 

* '  You  started  it  in  me. ' ' 

Paul  looked  over  his  shoulder  at  the  sea. 
After  a  considerable  silence  he  said : 

"  I  wonder  how  many  came  through?  " 

The  question  was  addressed  to  the  sea  as 
much  as  it  was  to  Emily.    She  shuddered. 
278 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

"  Here!  "  he  exclaimed  brusquely.  "  What 
are  we  doing?  There  is  Polaris  up  there  smil- 
ing at  you,  my  lady. ' ' 

His  face  was  lit  with  a  wonderful  smile  as  he 
spoke.  It  drove  the  gloom  from  her  mind  which 
their  reference  to  the  Cambodia  had  produced. 
Soon  they  were  off  on  an  expedition  to  the 
stars,  each  in  turn  naming  one  and  identifying 
its  bearings.  Paul  had  introduced  Emily  to  this 
* '  game  ' '  the  second  night  on  the  island,  and 
then  as  now  they  lost  themselves  in  it  in  a 
childish  delight.  His  mental  equipment  was 
forever  startling  the  gold  woman.  Where  he 
had  found  the  time  to  garner  the  store  of  knowl- 
edge that  was  his  and  to  keep  abreast  of  the 
times,  leading  such  a  life  as  he  had  for  tern 
years,  was  a  marvel  to  her. 

"Ha!  Ha!  "  Paul  laughed  suddenly  as  the 
cabin  clock,  which  he  had  moved  into  the  lounge, 
struck  two  bells.  The  laugh  broke  the  spell  of 
the  stars  which  held  Emily,  only  to  weave  her 
immediately  in  another. 

'"I  have  shot  back  to  Paris!"' 

Paul  laughed  and  made  a  pretense  of  dusting 
himself. 

' ' '  Come — pardon  me — by  the  last  waterspout, 
Covered  with  ether, — accident  of  travel! 
My  eyes  still  full  of  star-dust,  and  my  spurs 

279 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

Encumbered'by  the  planets'  filaments! 
Ha!  on  my  doublet!    A  comet's  hair!'" 

As  he  finished  this  snatch  from  Cyrano  de 
Bergerac's  sky-traveling  tale,  Paul  pretended 
to  pick  a  comet's  hair  from  his  sleeve. 

"  Oh,  my  beloved  '  Cyrano  '!  '•  exclaimed 
Emily,  identifying  the  lines.  "  Do  go  on,"  and 
in  answer  Paul  went  through  the  entire  scene 
between  Cyrano  and  De  Guiche. 

'  *  And  I  will  applaud — I  will  pay  you  thus, ' ' 
and  the  gold  woman  reached  up  and  kissed  the 
helmsman  on  brow  and  lip. 

Thus  they  both  came  back  from  across  the 
world  and  the  four  centuries  whither  the  magic 
of  the  romantic  lines  had  transported  them. 

"  Come,  Emily,  didn't  you  hear  two  bells 
strike?  You  have  let  me  waste  nearly  an  hour 
of  your  watch  below.  Turn  in." 

"  It  has  been  an  hour  of  magic." 

She  held  her  mouth  up  to  be  kissed.  His  lips 
barely  touched  hers  and  flashed  away,  and  as 
she  went  through  the  lounge  door,  he  mur- 
mured, still  in  the  words  of  his  Gascon  hero, 
"  *  I  soon  shall  reach  the  moon.'  " 

Fifteen  days  later  the  gold  woman  was  at 
the  wheel  again,  having  relieved  Paul  to  permit 
him  to  make  his  noon  observations.  It  was  a 
280 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

Sunday.  She  watched  him  tremulously,  and 
strangely  troubled,  where  he  worked  at  the 
chart  table  in  the  lounge. 

The  days  that  had  passed  had  been  those  of 
which  sea-singers  make  their  happiest,  bravest 
songs — by  sunlight  azure,  cloudless  sky,  and 
wind-flecked,  gem-shot,  purple  sea ;  by  night  an 
ermine-tipped  deep,  mirroring  the  star  jewels 
and  planet  studdings  of  mystic,  violet  heavens. 
Through  these  halcyon  days  the  Daphne  had 
been  winging  her  way  ever  eastward;  flinging 
long  sea  leagues  behind  under  the  impulse  of 
a  driving,  northwesterly  wind.  It  had  been  as 
constant  as  a  mother's  love;  with  never  a  pause 
the  bark  had  sped  as  she  was  speeding  now, 
not  as  a  hand-made  fabric  of  steel  and  iron  and 
wood  and  canvas  and  brass,  but  like  a  living, 
sensate  thing  into  which  her  maker  had  breathed 
a  soul.  The  crispness  of  Spring  was  in  the  air 
— air  which  whipped  the  blood  like  young  wine. 

' '  Only  a  thousand  miles  more !  ' '  called  Paul 
suddenly. 

As  he  spoke  Emily  saw  him  rise  quickly  from 
the  table  and  come  toward  her.  The  mask  of 
joyousness  which  he  wore  was  but  a  mask  to 
her.  It  might  have  deceived  anybody  else,  but 
this  girl  had  come  to  understand  him  and  read 
him  as  not  even  the  woman  who  had  borne  him 

281 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

could  have  done.  There  was  a  constraint  upon 
him.  With  each  noon's  tale  of  a  shortening 
journey  a  relentless  tide  had  seemed  to  carry 
him  further  and  further  away  from  her.  After 
the  first  flush  of  the  homeward  flight  he  had 
sung  no  more  of  his  sea  songs  unless  she  asked 
him.  He  had  a  guard  up.  A  secret  fear  seemed 
to  be  gnawing  at  his  heart.  By  instinct  alone 
she  read  that  he  loved  her;  not  by  external 
signs. 

"  This  is  a  smart  little  packet,"  Paul  went 
on.  '  *  Just  think  of  it — one  thousand  nine  hun- 
dred and  eighty  miles  in  fifteen  days!  That's 
moving  with  nothing  above  a  crippled  mainto'- 
galluns'l  on  her!  We  did  eleven  knots  for  a 
stretch  when  that  puff  struck  us  at  dawn  this 
morning." 

"  'She's  a  saucy  wild  packet;  she's  a  packet  of  fame, 

She  belongs  to  New  York  and  the  Dreadnaught't  her  name. ' " 

With  this  couplet,  singing  it  in  her  rich  voice, 
as  she  had  learned  it  from  Paul,  Emily  made 
her  answer.  She  did  it  with  a  bravery  and  pre- 
tense of  light-heartedness  which  she  was  far 
from  feeling. 

11  At  this  rate  we'll  not  be  spending  another 
Sunday  aboard  the  Daphne,  partner.  Eh?  ' 

"  No,"  she  said  and  she  kept  her  eyes 
282 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

averted  as  he  took  the  wheel  from  her.  She 
looked  out  over  the  lee  rail  and  across  the  sea. 
Just  over  the  end  of  the  spanker  boom,  where 
it  wheeled  low  down  on  the  southwestern 
horizon,  a  white  glint  fixed  her  gaze.  For  a 
second  she  thought  it  was  a  large  bird.  Guiltily 
she  held  her  breath  as  she  discovered  it  to  be 
a  sail.  She  closed  her  eyes  and  afterwards  she 
believed  that  in  that  moment  she  had  prayed 
that  Paul  might  not  see  it.  But  he  had  followed 
her  gaze.  Her  heart  went  cold  as  she  heard 
him  cry :  * '  Sail  ho !  " 

A  second  later  the  Daphne  was  shaking  in 
the  wind. 

"  Here,  Emily,  take  the  wheel!  Keep  her 
shaking  just  as  she  is!  " 

Paul  drew  Emily  to  the  wheel  as  he  spoke 
and  ran  to  the  rail. 

"  It's  a  ship !  Those  are  her  sky s 'Is  or  royals 
we  can  see!  She's  bound  this  way!  " 

Emily's  hands  faltered.  The  wheel  rolled 
through  them.  The  Daphne  clawed  up  in  the 
wind  until  she  was  nearly  aback  forward. 

* '  Hard  up !    Hard  up !  "  cried  Paul  in  alarm. 

Blindly  Emily  recovered  herself  and  put  the 
helm  up.  The  Daphne  fell  off  before  the  wind 
and  her  skipper  turned  again  to  the  strange 
sail. 

283 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

"  No,"  he  said.  "  She's  outward  bound — 
going  the  other  way.  We  could  never  overtake 
her."  He  took  the  wheel  again.  "  Better  look 
at  her,  partner.  It's  a  full-rigged  ship.  Not 
many  of  'em  left.  Pretty  soon  the  sea  will 
know  them  no  more.  They'll  be  gone — like — 
like  the  dreams  of  yesterday." 

In  a  few  minutes  the  outward-bounder  dipped 
out  of  sight,  but  even  before  she  went  a  mist  had 
shut  her  from  Emily's  vision.  "  Dreams  of 
yesterday,"  her  thoughts  kept  repeating. 

Although  the  Daphne  had  been  lying  along  in 
a  beaten  track  of  vessels  for  more  than  two 
weeks,  this  was  the  first  sail  to  be  sighted  from 
her  decks — the  first  vessel  to  come  within  her 
ken  since  the  four-master  with  the  painted  ports 
had  "  arrived  out." 

"  Don't  feel  badly,  Emily,"  Paul  said  as  the 
gold  woman  faced  him.  * '  Any  hour  may  bring 
us  up  with  a  homeward-bounder. ' ' 

"  I  do  not  feel  badly,"  she  answered,  and  her 
pride  helped  her  mask  her  feelings.  "  But  if 
we  are  going  to  be  home  by  next  Sunday  we 
are  going  to  have  one  more  *  picnic.'  " 

With  that  she  went  forward  to  the  galley. 
The  preceding  Sunday  she  had  prepared  a 
luncheon  for  both  of  them  and  they  had  eaten  it 
at  the  wheel  together.  They  had  prepared  for 
284 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

it  a  day  ahead,  talking  childish  make-believes  of 
what  they  would  wear  and  of  the  good  things 
they  would  have  to  eat.  Paul  had  stolen  the 
time  to  shave.  Emily  had  found  a  bit  of  pink 
ribbon  and  put  it  in  her  hair.  This  had  been 
their  change  of  apparel.  Such  a  meal  as  the 
cheap,  sea-sour  provisions  of  the  Dap}vne  af- 
forded had  been  the  ' '  picnic  ' '  luncheon  of  their 
fiction. 

But  Saturday  of  this  week  had  slipped  by 
and  neither  had  spoken  of  a  repetition.  Emily 
had  waited  for  Paul  to  say  something.  He  had 
waited  for  her.  Yet  now  he  noted  as  she  went 
forward  that  there  was  a  bit  of  ribbon  in  her 
hair.  And  she  had  observed  that  morning  when 
he  had  come  on  deck  to  relieve  her  at  10  o'clock 
that  he  was  freshly  shaven. 

Of  a  sudden  Emily  paused  in  the  midst  of 
her  "  picnic  "  preparations,  her  mind  stumbling 
upon  the  strangest  thought  that  had  yet  come 
to  her  of  Paul's  inexplicable  mood. 

"  Can  there  be  another  woman  in  his  life?  ' 
whispered  this  thought. 

Instantly  there  came  to  her  mind  the  night 
on  the  Isle  of  Hope  when  she  had  heard  him 
murmur  in  unconsciousness  of  a  woman  to  whom 
he  would  soon  come  home. 

285 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

She  remembered  that  she  had  even  prayed 
for  this  woman. 

"  Cherchez  la  femme."  Nothing  was  truer 
than  that.  Always  the  woman.  Her  thoughts 
went  wild.  They  began  picturing  the  sort  of 
woman  who  might  have  come  into  his  life  and 
who  might  be  coming  back  into  it.  No;  she 
would  never  come  back  into  it,  for  if  she  had 
let  him  go  when  the  blow  fell,  he  was  not  the 
kind  to  let  her  back.  Still  love  moved  men  in 
strange  ways. 

It  was  a  sorry  picnic  that  was  spread  on  the 
Daphne's  deck.  It  came  to  an  end  at  2  o'clock 
when  Paul  turned  the  wheel  over  to  Emily  and 
started  forward  with  the  dishes  they  had  used. 

"  I  think  I  shall  break  out  some  coal  for  the 
donkey,"  he  announced. 

"  But  it's  Sunday,  you  know,"  said  Emily, 
making  a  brave  effort  to  smile.  There  was  an 
invitation  in  her  glance  for  him  to  remain,  but 
he  would  not  see  it. 

11  And  you've  forgotten  your  sailor's  litany," 
he  answered : 

"  '  Six  days  shalt  thou  work,  doing  all  that 
thou  art  able ;  and  on  the  seventh,  holystone  the 
decks  and  stow  away  the  cable. ' ' 

He  smiled  as  he  quoted  the  sea-grimed  lines 
which  the  first  shell  back  on  the  Ark  must  have 
286 


/The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

turned.  Then  slowly  lie  put  down  the  dishes 
and  irresistibly — a  powerful  magnet  might 
have  been  controlling  him — he  was  drawn  aft  to 
the  gold  woman.  He  took  her  face  between  his 
hands  and  kissed  her  as  he  had  kissed  her  that 
day  in  the  lounge.  She  dropped  the  wheel  and 
staggered. 

"  My  lover,"  she  murmured. 

"  Darling,"  he  whispered. 

Just  as  the  Daphne  was  striking  aback  the 
madness  which  was  upon  Lavelle  passed  from 
him  and  he  seized  the  wheel.  As  he  sent  her 
off  before  the  wind  again  the  back  draught  of 
the  shaking  sails  wafted  to  him  a  sulphurous 
odor  which  chilled  the  last  drop  of  blood  in  his 
veins. 

11  Emily,  take  the  wheel.  Keep  her  full — as 
she  is." 

"  Paul,  dear,  what " 

The  pallor  of  death  was  in  his  face.  Another 
scent  of  gaseous  warning  struck  him. 

"  My  God,  we're  afire!  "  he  cried  and  sprang 
forward. 


287 


PAITL  ran  straight  from  the  poop  into  the  eyes 
of  the  Daphne.  There  the  trail  of  gas  led  him. 
It  was  the  coal  in  the  fore  hatch  that  had  been 
exposed  and  wet.  He  went  below  through  the 
chain  locker,  but  only  to  remain  a  second.  A 
sulphurous  wave  of  heat  drove  him  on  deck, 
choking  for  breath.  A  furnace  was  back  of 
it.  There  was  no  fire  to  be  seen,  but  this  man 
did  not  have  to  see  it  to  know  what  the  blast 
that  repulsed  him  meant.  He  knew  these  Aus- 
tralian coal  cargoes  too  well.  This  was  not  the 
result  of  the  mutineers'  abortive  effort  to  de- 
stroy the  Daphne.  This  was  a  fire  of  spontane- 
ous combustion.  It  was  deeply  seated.  These 
coals  had  been  in  the  bark  more  than  one  hun- 
dred and  sixteen  days  to  his  own  knowledge, 
which  was  drawn  from  the  log  and  the  time 
since  he  had  boarded  her.  How  long  she  had 
lain  in  Sydney  after  being  loaded  there  was  no 
way  of  telling. 

Coals  of  this  kind,  laden  in  hulls  like  the 
Daphne's,  which  were  never  built  for  such  car- 
goes, generate  gas  after  a  certain  period,  and 
unless  watched  incessantly  and  ventilated  prop- 
288 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

erly  fire  is  the  certain  result.  The  Pacific  deeps 
hold  the  secret  of  many  a  ship  brought  to  her 
doom  through  such  a  lading. 

That  night  the  constant  northwesterly  sum- 
moned a  new  freshness  to  its  drive  as  if  it 
sensed  the  Daphne's  peril.  When  Paul  relieved 
Emily  at  the  wheel  at  seven  o'clock  she  was 
crying  with  the  pain  in  her  arms.  She  had  been 
standing  there  a  full  five  hours.  Not  since  they 
had  been  sailing  to  the  eastward  had  Paul  per- 
mitted her  to  take  a  trick  beyond  two  hours. 
She  had  to  walk  up  and  down  the  deck  swing- 
ing her  arms  and  flexing  her  fingers  to  get  the 
numbness  out  of  them. 

"  Emily,  I'd  suffer  any  pain  to  take  yours 
away,"  Paul  said.  "  I  feel  like  a  whipped  cur 
to  see  you  going  through  all  this  terror  and 
hardship — and  to  think  I  can't  do  anything  to 
put  any  of  it  away  from  you." 

His  tenderness  flooded  her  eyes  with  tears. 
Strife  always  brought  him  close  to  her. 

"  Don't,  Paul,  please,"  she  said  bravely,  at- 
tempting to  control  her  voice.  "  You  will — you 
will  have  me  breaking — going  to  pieces  in  a 
moment. ' ' 

She  put  her  hands  to  her  face  and  leaned 
against  the  casing  over  the  steering  gear. 

' '  Emily,  I  want  you  to  get  for  'ard  and  get  a 

289 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

bite  to  eat  and  then  turn  in,"  he  said.  "I'm 
going  to  try  to  let  you  sleep  for  three  hours — 
maybe  until  midnight.  I've  everything  bat- 
tened down  forward.  The  fire's  all  there.  Not 
a  sign  aft — no  temperature.  It 's  this  wind  and 
our  strength  against  the  beast  that's  under 
decks." 

He  did  not  tell  her  what  a  beast  he  knew  it 
to  be. 

The  morning  of  the  fifth  day  after  the  dis- 
covery of  the  fire  Paul  fixed  the  Daphne's  posi- 
tion one  hundred  and  fifty  miles  to  the  south 
and  west  of  San  Francisco. 

"  Only  another  day,  partner!  Maybe  an 
hour  may  bring  a  vessel  to  us!  '  She  had  just 
relieved  him  at  the  wheel.  Through  these  five 
days  the  Daphne  had  come  driving  without 
sighting  a  sail:  unspoken  save  by  the  voice  of 
the  northwest  wind.  Once  they  had  seen  the 
black  smoke  plume  of  an  outward-bound 
steamer,  but  it  was  too  far  away  for  the 
Daphne's  signal  of  distress  to  be  seen. 

Paul  seemed  to  be  living  by  will  alone :  to  be 
endowed  of  a  force  that  only  death  could  stay. 
When  he  slept  the  gold  woman  had  no  idea.  He 
had  relieved  her  at  the  wheel  every  two  hours, 
night  and  day,  but  when  she  was  steering  she 
frequently  heard  him  at  work  in  the  engine 
290 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

room.  From  the  very  first  night  he  had  slept 
beside  that  engine,  kept  its  fires  alive  and  a 
stream  of  steam  flowing  into  the  forehold 
through  a  pipe  led  down  through  the  chain 
locker.  He  had  explained  to  her  that  water  on 
a  fire  like  this  would  have  been  of  as  little  use 
as  oil:  that  gases  had  to  be  smothered. 

Emily  sensed  that  a  greater  danger  menaced 
them  than  Paul  had  revealed.  This  had  been 
suggested  to  her  when  on  the  second  day  she 
Jiad  seen  him  finish  a  raft  built  of  doors  and 
forecastle  bunkboards.  But  she  had  learned  of 
the  storm  not  to  ask  questions.  What  this  man 
chose  to  tell  he  would  tell. 

Never  had  he  seemed  more  splendid  than  as 
he  stood  before  her  this  morning  telling  the 
Daphne's  position,  and  in  the  same  breath  whis- 
pering again  the  belief  that  had  come  to  him 
the  night  before  that  the  steam  was  choking  the 
beast  in  the  hold.  Bare-armed,  bareheaded, 
lithe  with  a  thoroughbred's  suppleness,  he  was, 
in  her  sight,  an  urn  of  the  divine  fire  from  which 
mankind  draws  its  noblest  impulses. 

"  We'll  win  through  yet,  Paul!  In  justice 
we  must!  "  she  called  to  him  as  he  went  for- 
ward. 

She  saw  him  come  to  the  galley  door  a  few 
minutes  later  with  a  cup  of  steaming  coffee  and, 

291 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

as  he  ate  of  a  biscuit  and  drank,  lie  waved  to 
her.  He  darted  inside  and  a  moment  later  came 
running  aft  with  a  cup  for  her. 

"  I've  had  my  coffee,  dearheart,"  she  said. 

11  Half  a  dozen  cups  won't  hurt  you.  I  put 
two  spoons  of  sugar  in  this — sand,  save  the 
mark." 

With  that  he  was  gone  from  her  again.  Emily 
watched  him  breaking  coal  out  of  a  corner  of 
the  main  hatch  for  use  in  the  donkey.  She 
smiled  as  she  remembered  his  commentary  on 
the  grimness  of  stealing  coal  from  one  end  of 
the  ship  to  make  fire  to  put  out  coal  already 
afire  in  the  other  end.  It  was  the  old,  old  prin- 
ciple of  fighting  fire  with  fire  in  a  new,  weird 
form. 

Watching  her  partner  drew  Emily's  atten- 
tion from  the  Daphne.  A  warning  slat  of  the 
weather  leech  of  the  to'galluns'l  brought  her 
eyes  back  to  the  bark  and  the  compass.  She 
had  just  succeeded  in  getting  the  vessel  on 
her  course  of  northeast  again  when  a  roar  with 
a  shriek  whistling  through  it  came  bursting  aft. 
A  cloud  of  steam  poured  from  the  engine  room 
door. 

Shrieking  Paul's  name,  Emily  paused  but  a 
second  when  no  answer  came.  She  became  a 
flame  of  action.  With  the  quickness  of  thought 
292 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

and  the  instinct  of  his  training  guiding  her 
hands,  she  snapped  the  wheel  into  its  beckets, 
let  the  spanker  sheet  go  by  the  run  and, 
leaping  forward,  cast  the  halyards  off  their 
pin. 

Only  belching  steam  answered  her  cry  of  Paul. 
Into  it  she  hurled  herself.  It  flung  her  back. 
She  became  as  a  tigress  at  the  repulse.  She 
was  not  to  be  denied.  Instinct  brought  her  to 
her  hands  and  knees.  It  told  her  to  go  in  under 
the  scalding  vapor.  Just  inside  the  door  she 
found  her  own  and  snatched  him  into  the  life- 
giving  air. 

When  Paul  awoke  to  consciousness  fifteen 
minutes  later  it  was  to  find  the  face  of  the  gold 
woman  bending  over  him.  He  put  up  his  arms 
and  drew  her  face  down  against  his  hot  lips 
and  held  it  there. 

* '  You,  you, ' '  he  murmured,  and  he  found  the 
precious  lips  which  had  kissed  him  again  and 
again  in  his  unconsciousness.  They  answered 
him  as  if  they  would  breathe  the  strength  of 
immortal  life  into  his  form. 

' '  Not  even  death  can  take  you  from  me !  ' : 
she  cried,  and  started  up  savagely.  She  might 
have  expected  to  find  the  grim  specter  himself 
to  grapple  at  her  side. 

"  Not  even — death " 

293 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

Lavelle  sighed  and  his  eyes  closed  in  a  seem- 
ing weariness  of  pain.  His  arms  fell  from  her 
neck. 

11  Oh,  God,  you  mustn't  take  him  from  me! 
You  must  not!  ?: 

It  was  an  appeal,  a  command,  a  challenge  of 
defiance.  The  cry  with  which  she  sent  it  heav- 
enward pierced  above  the  roar  of  the  steam 
and  the  warring  sails  and  hamper  above. 

Although  this  lone  woman's  extremity  was 
great,  yet  of  her  association  with  Paul  Lavelle 
she  had  learned  to  order  her  wits  in  the  pres- 
ence of  disaster. 

"  If  the  next  minute  seems  to  be  the  last, 
just  keep  on  fighting — hammering  ahead,"  he 
had  said  to  her  so  many  times. 

She  remembered  how  he  had  given  strych- 
nine to  McGovern  to  stimulate  heart  action — 
the  oil  he  had  put  on  the  poor  fellow's  burns. 
She  ran  aft  and  in  a  drawer  in  the  medicine 
chest  which  she  looted  of  bandages  and  lint 
she  discovered  by  accident  a  bottle  of  brandy. 
When  she  returned  to  Paul  he  was  just  opening 
his  eyes  again.  He  shook  his  head  at  the  liquor 
when  he  had  taken  but  a  sip  of  it. 

"  Some  starch  and  water,"  he  whispered, 
11  or  glycerine.  There's  some  aft " 

Emily  found  a  bottle  of  glycerine.  A  few 
294 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

minutes  after  he  had  swallowed  a  mouthful  of 
it  he  nodded  that  he  felt  easier. 

"  Steam — afraid  it  got  inside,"  he  whispered. 
"  Tried — remember  keep  my  mouth  shut. 
Steam's  bad  to  swallow.  Water  injector — on 
the  boiler — blew  out.  Hit  me  somewhere  in  the 
middle.  Happened  all  in  a  second." 

He  fainted  while  Emily  was  drawing  the  boot 
off  his  left  leg  which  he  had  indicated  hurt  him 
most.  The  limb  was  scalded  from  the  knee 
down.  His  arms  and  the  backs  of  his  hands, 
too,  were  blistered.  His  face  was  grimed  with 
ashes  and  soot,  but  when  Emily  washed  it  she 
found  it  free  of  burn  or  hurt.  The  while  her 
loving  hands  swathed  him  and  soothed  his 
wounds  she  crooned  like  a  wild  thing  over  its 
whelp. 

When  he  revived  she  was  holding  his  head 
in  her  lap  just  as  she  had  in  the  Cambodia's 
boat.  His  eyelids  lifted  to  her  kisses.  He  put 
up  a  hand  and  touched  her  cheek  and  she  patted 
it.  He  smiled  at  the  reassurance  that  it  was 
not  a  dream.  Many,  many  times  he  had  awak- 
ened to  put  out  his  hand  like  that — to  touch 
that  face  and  met  only  emptiness. 

The  jade  ring  which  he  had  put  on  Emily's 
finger  drew  his  glance  and  held  it  for  a  second. 

"  '  Man  has  many  reckonings  with  man,  but 

295 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

only  one  with  God,'  "  he  repeated.  "  '  Only 
one  with  God.'  " 

The  escaping  steam  by  this  time  had  spent 
its  strongest  volume.  It  was  now  no  more  than 
a  hiss.  The  Daphne  had  fallen  off  before  the 
wind  again  and  the  noise  aloft  had  practically 
ceased. 

"  I  feel  this  is  the  reckoning,  partner,"  he 
whispered. 

With  a  sob  she  bent  and  kissed  him  with  all 
the  passion  of  her  being. 

"  And  for  the  touch  of  those  lips,"  Paul  went 
on,  "  the  reckoning — cannot  be  too  hard." 

* '  No,  no,  dearheart —  No,  no !  This  is  not 
the  reckoning — only  the  beginning  of  the  fu- 
ture. ' ' 

Paul  shook  his  head. 

"  I  have  thought  of  the  future,  but  it  can't 
be — for  me.  If  things  had  been  different  I 
should  have  found  you  though  you  had  been 
at  the  ends  of  the  world.  And  I  should  have 
come  for  you  and  taken  you."  A  flash  of  the 
old  conquering  spirit  lit  his  eyes.  "  I  should 
have  taken  you  despite  a  world  against  me.  It 
is  part  of  the — the  reckoning  that  we  should— 
have  met;  like  strange  ships  on  the  sea  and  to 
have  sailed  together  for  this  little  while.  But 
296 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

it  wasn't  to  be  that  we  were  to  get  home  to- 
gether. And  that  is  right.  That  is  right." 

* '  Paul,  Paul,  this  hopelessness  is  not  like  you. 
You  will  live!  You  must  live!  '; 

"  But  I  don't  want  to  live,"  he  answered  very 
calmly.  "  I  am  nothing  but  a  worthless,  broken 
thing — marked  among  men.  I  haven't  even  a 
name  to  give  you.  I  am  a  pariah  man — darling. 
That's " 

"  Listen,  Paul — look  up  at  me  so  that  you 
will  know  that  it  is  my  soul  speaking  to  you. 
All  that  fortune  has  given  me  is  as  nothing  to 
just  the  glance  with  which  you  are  looking  up 
at  me  now.  All  that  I  have  is  yours — my  soul, 
my  flesh,  my  blood,  my  every  breath,  my  life! 
Had  you  nowhere  to  lay  your  head  I  would 
follow  you.  Had  you  only  rags  to  cover  me  I 
would  wear  them  as  robes  of  state.  Had  you 
only  a  crust  from  the  gutter  to  share  with  me 
it  would  be  a  feast.  Were  the  whole  world  to 
revile  you  its  scorn  would  make  me  proud.  I 
would  wear  its  spittle  like  jewels.  My  love 
would  be  my  crown." 

Emily  Granville  was  burning  with  the  divine 
fire  of  a  sublime  love.  Her  message  to  this  man, 
who  to  her  was  more  than  all  the  earth  and  its 
treasures — more  than  life  itself,  burst  from  her 

297 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

lips  with  the  passionate  rush  of  a  mountain 
stream  seeking  the  ocean. 

"  Can  you  not  understand  that  my  love  would 
be  a  poor  weak,  despicable  thing  if  this  were 
not  so?  That  I  would  not  be  worthy  of  my 
womanhood?  " 

She  choked  back  the  tears  as  she  asked  these 
questions ;  she  kissed  the  face  which  she  pressed 
against  her  breast. 

"  That  you  might  live — I  would  die  with  a 
smile  and  with  but  one  regret :  That  it  had  not 
been  permitted  to  me  to  bear  a  man  child  like 
you. 

"  But  there  is  a  future,  Paul.  The  world  will 
not  drive  us  forth.  Life — a  fine,  clean,  God- 
fearing life  is  waiting  for  us  over  there — just 
through  the  Golden  Gate.  It  is  a  golden  gate 
which  will  close  out  the  past — forever  ar,d 
ever. ' ' 

' l  It  cannot  be  locked  out,  dear. ' ' 

"  But  it  can.  I  can  lock  it  out.  The  world 
must  listen  to  me.  It  must  believe  me.  Justice 
works  in  strange  ways,  but  it  brought  us  that 
poor  man  out  of  the  sea.  I  can  tell  the  world 
his  story.  He  was  with  you  on  the  Yakutat." 

Paul  started  and  caught  her  hand. 

"  Then,  it  was  not  a  vagary,"  he  whispered. 
"  That  was  Driscoll — the  quartermaster." 

298 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

' '  He  was  in  the  boat  with  you  that  night.  I 
don't  know  what  name  you  knew  him  by.  But 
he  told  me  what  happened — the  truth.  Had  he 
never  spoken  I  should  have  known  the  truth. 
If  the  world  would  not  listen  to  you,  it  will 
listen  to  me !  It  will  take  back  its  lies !  If " 

Emily's  voice  broke  and  she  lowered  her  head 
in  the  embrace  of  the  wounded  arms  which  en- 
circled her  neck.  The  pent-up  tears  of  all  her 
travail  of  spirit  since  their  paths  had  crossed 
—the  tears  choked  back  and  fought  back 
through  the  dark  hours  of  all  the  weeks  that  had 
gone — would  not  be  longer  stayed.  On  his 
breast  she  poured  them,  and  her  one  thought 
was  that  if  death  must  be  her  love's  victor  it 
would  strike  them  quickly  in  each  other 's  arms. 


299 


CHAPTER  XXXII 

"  In  the  Black  Ball  Line  I  served  my  time, 

To  me  Jwodah.     To  me  hoodah; 
In  the  Black  Ball  Line  I  served  my  time, 
So  hurrah  for  the  Black  Ball  Line! 

"Blow,  my  butties,  blow, 
For  California  Of 
TJiere' 8  plenty  of  gold, 
So  I've  been  told, 
On  the  banks  of  the  Sacramento!  " 

IT  was  with  this  familiar  capstan  chanty, 
11  The  Banks  of  the  Sacramento,"  ringing  into 
his  senses  that  Paul  Lavelle  opened  his  eyes 
again  on  conscious  life.  The  chorus  rose  clear 
and  lusty,  following  a  baritone  leader  whose 
tones  were  like  chimes.  A  strange,  sharp  voice 
of  command  near  by  suddenly  cut  into  the 
chorus. 

"  Tell  that  gang  of  bullies  to  cut  that  out 
and  handle  that  capstan  in  silence !  Tell  'em  to 
remember  we've  sick  folk  aboard  here." 

A  moment  afterward  the  chanty  ceased. 

"  Emily,  Emily!  "  Paul  called.  He  believed 
he  shouted,  but  his  voice  rose  hardly  above  a 
whisper.  A  shadow  cut  off  the  morning  sun- 
300 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

light  which  was  streaming  through  a  door  at 
his  feet.  A  film  seemed  to  be  over  his  vision, 
but  he  sensed  that  he  was  in  the  Daphne's 
lounge.  Somebody  sat  down  beside  him  and 
two  strong  hands  took  one  of  his  between  them. 

"  You  God  blessed,  old  pirate,  you ' 

Emotion  choked  the  speaker,  but  Paul  Lavelle 
started  at  the  sound  of  that  voice.  It  called 
to  him  across  fourteen  years  of  silence.  He 
looked  up  dazed  at  a  man  built  like  himself  and 
dressed  in  the  uniform  of  a  United  States  naval 
commander. 

"  Tommy — Tommy  Winterton,"  he  mur- 
mured. 

"Bet  your  boots  it's  Tommy!"  came  the 
answer  with  a  bit  of  a  sniffle  in  it. 

"  But  where  am  I?  Where "  Terror 

seized  him.  "  Emily,  Emily!  "  he  called. 

"  She's  below,  Paul,  sleeping.  She's  been 
up  here,  sitting  where  I  am,  nearly  all  night." 

"  But  how-        Where " 

' '  Stow  your  questions  till  I  get  through.  I've 
a  lot  to  tell  you." 

Paul  subsided  with  a  wondering  gaze  fixed 
on  the  speaker. 

"  I've  a  lot  to  tell  that'll  make  you  want  to 
live;  that  ought  to  bring  you  off  your  back 
quicker  than  you  can  say  Jack  Robinson,"  Win- 

301 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

terton  went  on.  "  Yon  haven't  swallowed  any 
steam — you're  burned  up  a  bit  outside  and 
you're  just  as  good-looking  as  ever." 

"  But  where  ara  I?    What  has  happened?  " 

"  You're  aboard  your  own  bark — the  Daphne. 
She's  yours  by  the  Lord  Harry  and  I'd  like  to 
see  anybody  take  her  away  from  you.  We'll 
be  up  with  the  Gate  in  another  three  hours. 
I'm  having  her  mudhooks  shackled  up  now. 
Along " 

A  renewing  of  the  chanty  interrupted  him. 

' '  Mr.  Yates !    Mr.  Yates !  ' '  called  Winterton. 

A  young  ensign  appeared  in  the  doorway. 

11  Tell  'em  to  cut  that  out!  " 

Paul  shook  his  head. 

"  Let  'em  go  on,"  he  asked.  "  Ask  that  fel- 
low with  the  baritone  voice  to  find  a  job  and 
give  us  '  The  Maid  of  Amsterdam.'  " 

"  Anything  his  heart  desires,  Mr.  Yates." 

Yates  stepped  inside  with  his  hand  extended 
toward  Paul. 

"  I  just  want  to  shake  hands  with  you  and 
say  I'm  proud  to  do  it." 

He  lifted  the  hand  which  Winterton  held  and 
gave  it  a  gentle  squeeze  through  its  bandages. 
He  turned  and  went  out  quickly.  Winterton 
picked  up  the  hand  again  and  met  Paul's  won- 
dering gaze. 
302 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

"  That  boy  meant  that,"  said  Winterton. 
"  Why " 

The  strain  of  * '  The  Maid  of  Amsterdam  ' ' 
the  most  beautiful  of  all  sailor  work  songs- 
came  aft. 

"  That  can't  stop  me,"  Winterton  went  on. 
"  We  ran  afoul  of  your  old  packet  about  11 
o'clock  yesterday  morning,  threshing  around 
like  a  wild  ship — two  ships  of  the  cruiser 
squadron ;  mine  and  another.  The  Carolina  has 
gone  on  in.  I'm  stretching  a  hawser  over  your 
bows  with  my  ship.  Don't  you  remember  any- 
thing about  it?  No?  I  sent  Yates  and  a  boat's 
crew  aboard  of  you.  They  found  you  and  that 
glorious  girl  trying  to  get  aft.  You  wanted  to 
get  to  the  wheel  and  you  not  able  to  stand. 
Don't  remember  it,  eh?  I  reckon  you  don't. 

"  Oh,  my  boy,  that  girl  and  you  have  had  the 
whole  lot  of  us  miserable.  We  reached  Hono- 
lulu from  Callao  ten  days  after  the  Cambodia 
went  down.  Department  ordered  us  to  join  the 
search  for  survivors.  Whaler  picked  up  a  hun- 
dred and  forty.  There  was  a  kid  of  a  quarter- 
master among  'em — he  and  a  chap  named  Evans 
—he's  in  the  consular  service — were  the  heroes 
of  the  whole  lot.  It  would  take  me  a  week  to 
tell  you  the  things  they  said  about  you.  They 
weren't  the  only  ones.  To  me  it  was  like  a  poor 

303 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

man  finding  gold — every  word  they  dropped 
was  a  chunk  of  gold.  Say,  don't  mind,  if  I 
snivel  a  little  bit.  But  I'm  glad,  glad!  You 
under — you  old — 

' '  My  mother Have — 

"  Got  a  cable  from  her  at  Honolulu.  Sent  a 
wireless  to  her  last  night.  She's  waiting  for 
you  now  in  town.  Cambodia  had  no  wireless. 
'Twas  a  crime.  Somebody  ought  to  be  hanged." 

Paul  nodded  assent. 

* '  Well,  we  combed  out  to  the  westward  look- 
ing for  you  till  it  was  hopeless,"  Winterton 
resumed.  * '  We  had  nothing  but  gale  upon  gale. 
We  combed  through  that  chain  of  islands  to  the 
nor 'west  of  the  Hawaiians  and  at  Midway  we 
ran  on  the  gang  out  of  this  ship.  Oh,  it  isn't 
a  pretty  story:  They'd  made  the  island  after 
being  in  the  boats  ten  days.  When  they  set 
fire  to  this  ship  they  thought  Midway  was  right 
aboard  of  them.  None  was  a  navigator.  Sec- 
ond mate — a  murdering  hound  named  Morgan, 
who'd  been  taken  aft  from  the  foc'sle,  was  the 
ringleader.  He  killed  McGavock,  the  skipper. 
The  Jap  cook  killed  the  mate.  Plain  hellish- 
ness  was  at  the  back  of  it;  that's  all. 

' '  McGavock  had  been  logging  both  of  them— 
knocked  Morgan  down  one  day  for  giving  him 
back  talk.  Mate  did  the  same  to  the  cook.  The 
304 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

Jap  was  crazy  from  opium  smoking.  After 
they'd  done  the  killing  they  fixed  the  fire  and 
the  rest  of  the  crew  followed  them  over  the  side 
like  rats — you  know  the  kind.  One  of  the  outfit 
—sort  of  a  third  mate  and  bos'n — who'd  put  up 
a  fight — they  turned  him  adrift  without  water 
or  a  bite  to  eat.  Told  him  to  eat  the  oars  if 
he  got  hungry;  gave  him  the  ocean  to  drink. 
Yes,  that's  the  fellow  you  picked  up.  Miss 
Granville  told  me  about  it  last  night.  He  was 
with  your  father  at  Apia." 

"  But  what  of  McGavock 's  wife?  There  was 
a  woman,  Tommy." 

"  She  wasn't  aboard.  Seems  poor  McGavock 
lost  his  wife — died  at  sea  with  her  little  baby, 
away  out  to  the  westward  there,  a  couple  of 
years  ago.  He  kept  brooding  over  it — kept  the 
wife's  things  aboard  just  as  she'd  left  them.  I 
saw  the  little  ferns  down  there  under  the  sky- 
lights yesterday  evening.  Seems  that  after 
crossing  the  line  this  voyage  McGavock  got  it 
into  his  head  to  make  the  position  where  he'd 
buried  the  little  woman.  He  had  it  marked  on 
the  chart  with  a  little  red  cross.  The  mutineers 
stole  the  chart  and  they  thought  the  red  cross 
stood  for  an  island.  God  knows  why  McGavock 
steered  out  there.  Maybe  he  never  intended  to 
come  away. 

305 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

"  The  Jap  committed  suicide  at  Midway,  but 
he  told  the  whole  story  before  he  went  out  and 
we  have  the  rest  of  it  from  the  other  swine. 
The  whole  outfit's  aboard  my  ship.  Something 
of  the  poetry  of  justice  in  that,  eh?  A  British 
cruiser's  waiting  to  take  them  aboard  as  soon 
as  we  get  in.  Had  her  by  wireless  yester- 
day. 

"  But,  Paul,  it's  you  I  want  to  talk  about— 
and  I'll  not  answer  another  question  till  I  have 
my  say.  When  the  news  of  the  Cambodia's  loss 
and  what  you  'd  done  aboard  of  her  went  flash- 
ing round  the  world  it  set  the  old  navy  gang's 
hearts  up.  But  it  did  more  than  that :  It  reached 
into  the  conscience  of  that  fellow  Graham.  He 
was  on  his  last  legs  in  a  hospital  in  San  Fran- 
cisco. He'd  never  had  a  ship  since  he'd  lost 
the  Yakutat — just  a  beachcomber  and  a  bum.  A 
man  can't  do  a  dirty  thing  and  stand  up  after- 
ward. That's  as  sure  as  shooting.  Well,  with 
his  last  breath,  Graham  tells  the  truth  about  the 
night  the  Yakutat  was  lost;  said  if  he'd  done 
what  you  advised  him  to  do  the  ship  would  never 
have  piled  up.  He  took  back  every  lie  he  ut- 
tered on  the  witness  stand — admitted  that  he'd 
ordered  you  to  the  boats.  He  even  told  how  he 
looked  down  from  the  bridge  and  saw  you  fight- 
ing like  a  iiger  to  get  women  and  children  into 
306 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

the  boats.  The  San  Francisco  papers— we 
picked  'em  up  at  Honolulu — are  full  of  it.  Miss 
Granville  has  a  lot  of  them. 

* '  Lord,  man Why,  Paul,  you  damned  old 

pirate  you!  The  fleet's  been  collecting  a  fund 
—one  of  the  newspapers  that  roasted  you  the 
worst  is  backing  it — to  build  you  a  memorial. 
Something  in  bronze.  But  it  isn't  going  to  be 
bronze.  It's  going  to  be  silver — the  damnedest, 
finest  wedding  gift  a  real  man  ever  got." 

Winterton's  voice  was  husky  with  emotion. 
His  big  brown  eyes  were  suspiciously  misty.  He 
had  to  stop. 

"  Farallones  are  abeam,  sir,"  reported  Yates, 
who  was  in  temporary  command  of  the  Daphne, 
coming  to  the  door. 

"  Must  be  getting  back  to  my  own  ship,  Paul. 
Regulations,  you  know.  But  I'll  be  aboard  of 
you  as  soon  as  we  get  our  mudhooks  down." 

"  Carpenter's  mate  reports,  sir,"  interrupted 
the  ensign, ' '  that  the  fire  in  the  f orehold  is  ex- 
tinguished. ' ' 

"  See  that!  "  exclaimed  Winterton.  "  You 
beat  that,  too,  you  old  beggar,  even  though  you 
did  come  near  blowing  yourself  to  Kingdom 
Come!" 

At  that  moment  Emily,  fresh  from  sleep  and 
with  the  wonderful  light  of  love  transcendent 

307 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

in  her  being,  came  up  through  the  companion- 
way  with  the  surgeon  from  Winterton's  ship  at 
her  heels. 

Sawbones  caught  Winterton's  eye  and  fol- 
lowed him  out  on  deck.  The  lounge  door  closed 
softly  behind  them  and  Emily  Granville  and 
Paul  Lavelle  were  alone.  He  drew  her  precious 
face  down  to  his  and  printed  a  kiss  of  life  tri- 
umphant upon  her  expectant  lips.  Neither  at- 
tempted to  speak  for  several  minutes. 

The  gold  woman  carried  a  small  black  book 
and  she  laid  it  in  Paul's  hands  as  she  lifted  her 
face  from  his. 

11  I  want  you  to  have  this  now,  my  prince, 
before  the  world  renders  you  what  it  will  in  a 
few  hours.  I  would  have  dragged  from  the 
world  what  it  is  going  to  give  you  willingly. 
I  want  all  that  comes  to  you  to  come  through 
me.  Darling,  that  is  the  woman  of  it.  I  have 
kept  this  a  secret  from  you  because  I  wished  to 
be  able  to  swear  that  it  was  not  written  at  your 
suggestion;  that  you  knew  absolutely  nothing 
about  it.  If  I  did  wrong  in  keeping  it  from 
you — you " 

"  Why,  darling,  what  is  it!  ' 

"  Can  you  bear  to  read?  ' 

"  Yes." 

' '  Then  begin  here, ' '  and  she  opened  the  book 

308 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

in  the  middle  for  him  and  this  is  what  Paul 
Lavelle  read : 

"  At  sea  aboard  the  bark  Daphne,  March  31, 
191—. 

"  In  the  presence  of  death  and  without  the 
solicitation  or  the  knowledge  of  any  person 
hereinafter  named  I,  Daniel  McGovern,  some- 
times called  Driscoll,  and  other  names  unknown 
to  me,  say:  I  was  quartermaster  aboard  the 
steamship  Yakutat  which  was  wrecked  on  the 
California  Coast  in  the  month  of  March — the 
15th — 190 — ,  through  and  by  the  carelessness  of 
her  first  officer,  William  Graham,  then  acting 
as  captain  in  the  place  of  her  dead  commander. 
I  joined  the  ship  at  Skagway.  The  shipping 
records  there  will  show  under  what  name.  On 
the  day  preceding  the  wreck  and  when  we  were 
within  thirty-six  hours  of  our  destination  we 
encountered  a  dense  fog  in  which  the  ship  re- 
mained up  to  the  time  she  struck.  The  fog 
closed  in  about  10  o'clock  at  night  shortly  after 
I  took  the  wheel.  Paul  Lavelle,  second  officer 
of  the  Yakutat  and  ranking  next  in  command  to 
William  Graham,  was  on  the  bridge.  About 
fifteen  minutes  afterward  Graham  came  on  the 
bridge.  I  heard  Mr.  Lavelle  tell  a  steward  to 
call  Graham  from  the  saloon.  Lavelle  said: 

*  We  are  standing  in  too  near  the  land.    There 
is  a  bad  current  along  here.'     Graham  said: 

*  I've  had  enough  of  this  talk  from  you.    Hold 
your  course.    I'm  in  command  here.'    He  left 
the  bridge.     The  next  night  when  I  went  on 

309 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

watch  the  course  was  the  same  that  we  had 
been  holding  for  the  previous  twenty-four  hours. 
This  was  at  midnight.  The  third  officer  and 
the  captain,  Graham,  were  on  the  bridge.  Mr. 
Lavelle  was  just  being  relieved.  He  said  to 
the  captain,  Graham:  '  I  advise  you  to  steer  at 
least  three  points  further  to  the  southward.' 
We  were  making  a  course  southeast  by  east. 
Graham  answered:  '  Take  your  orders  or  go  to 
your  room  and  stay  there.  Which  will  it  be?  ' 
Mr.  Lavelle  said:  '  I  will  take  my  orders.' 
Other  things  were  said  in  both  theso  conversa- 
tions, but  what  tl'.-.y  were  I  do  not  know.  I 
give  only  the  partr;  I  heard  and  remember.  The 
ship  struck  at  fifteen  minutes  before  two.  The 
third  officer  signaled:  '  Full  speed  astern.'  If 
he  had  signaled  *  Full  speed  ahead  '  there  would 
have  been  but  few  lives  lost.  There  was  a 
ground  swell  running,  but  hardly  any  sea.  La- 
velle came  on  the  bridge  first.  Then  came  Gra- 
ham and  the  fourth  officer.  Graham  was  like 
a  crazy  man.  He  kept  saying:  i  All  hands  to 
the  boats.'  And  there  were  not  boats  enough 
aboard  for  half  the  ship's  company.  Mr.  La- 
velle cursed  Graham.  Graham  said:  *  I  order 
you  to  your  boat.'  I  followed  Mr.  Lavelle.  We 
had  to  fight  like  wild  beasts.  There  were  pis- 
tols and  knives  against  us  at  every  hand. 
'  Women  and  children  first;  remember.  UridfeoH.' 
That  is  what  Mr.  Lavelle  said  to  me.  The  boats 
were  being  let  go  by  the  run,  some  half  filed 
and  others  with  not  enough  in  them  to  man 
them.  We  gathered  all  the  women  and  children 

310 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

we  could  see.  The  last  we  let  in  was  an  old 
gentleman  who  had  been  sick  all  the  passage, 
and  his  wife.  I  lifted  him  in.  Mr.  Lavelle 
lifted  the  wife.  One  would  not  go  without  the 
other.  Then  the  lights  went  out.  When  we 
cleared  the  side  Lavelle  started  to  climb  the 
boat  fall  again  to  go  back  to  the  ship.  I  pulled 
him  back.  He  was  too  brave  a  man  to  let 
commit  suicide.  He  had  absolutely  no  thought 
of  himself.  I  have  followed  the  sea  forty-five 
years  and  I  know  brave  men.  I  saw  Paul  La- 
velle's  father  die  at  Apia.  Nobody  was  driven 
from  our  boat  but  men.  We  gave  their  places 
to  women  and  children.  We  did  not  beat  any- 
body with  oars.  When  we  cleared  the  ship  a 
negro — I  had  knocked  him  overboard  myself— 
grabbed  the  gunwale  of  the  boat.  We  could 
not  take  him  in.  Mr.  Lavelle  struck  at  him 
with  an  oar.  Somebody  stood  up  in  the  boat 
and  the  next  second  we  were  all  gone.  I  did 
not  remember  what  happened  until  one  year 
ago.  The  minister  at  the  Bethel  in  Hong  Kong 
can  tell  you  about  that.  The  doctors  there 
know,  too.  While  I  was  on  the  Yakutat  I  did 
not  know  who  Paul  Lavelle  was. 

HIS 

"  DANIEL    X    McGovERN. 
' '  Witness :  MARK 

"  EMILY  GEANVILLE." 

"Oh,  you  wonderful,  wonderful  woman!'1 
cried  Paul  as  he  finished  this  amazing  document 
and  crushed  Emily  to  him. 

311 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

Contrition  filled  him  as  he  remembered  the 
picture  of  her  standing  beside  the  derelict's 
berth  swearing  him  to  the  truth  of  his  state- 
ment. He  started  to  speak,  but  a  hand  over 
his  mouth  stopped  him.  The  gold  woman  could 
read  his  thoughts. 

"  I  should  have  answered  you  when  you  called 
me  that  night,  Paul,"  she  said,  "  but  if  I  had 
done  so  I  should  not  have  been  able  to  get  the 
poor  old  fellow  to  make  his  mark.  I  had  fought 
death  from  taking  him  until  I  could  put  in 
writing  what  he  said.  You ' 

She  did  not  finish,  for  he  drew  her  cheek  down 
against  his. 

Two  hours  later  Paul  Lavelle  and  Emily 
Granville  sailed  through  the  Golden  Gate — the 
golden  gate  of  the  future  which  she  had  prom- 
ised him. 

The  noble  sea  way  was  shimmering  in  the 
sunlight  of  a  flawless  Spring  day.  As  the 
Daphne  came  under  the  lee  of  the  green-clad 
Marin  hills  the  northwest  wind,  which  had  been 
her  constant  champion,  withdrew  like  a  courtier 
who  has  seen  his  lady  to  the  threshold  of  her 
home. 

"  To  live  and  to  love!  "  exclaimed  Paul,  in- 
haling a  deep  breath  of  the  crisp,  sparkling  air 
312 


The  Girl  of  the  Golden  Gate 

where  lie  had  been  carried  from  the  lounge  to 
a  chair  against  the  taffrail. 

"  To  love  and  to  live,"  whispered  Emily, 
pressing  the  hand  which  she  held  in  hers  against 
her  heart.  "  Isn't  life  beautiful?  " 

"  We  are  but  coming  through  its  gate,  dar- 
ling," he  answered. 


THE   END 


313 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 

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